Blood Upon Snow
by Ichimu
Summary: AU. Sango is a feudal princess who loses everything, but finds Miroku. In their passionate and epic struggle for revenge, the line between duty and desire begins to wear thin... SM
1. The Shadow's Toll

Disclaimer: The foundation was not mine, but from it I built my palace.

Author's Note: Yes, people. It's another fic; I'm sorry, I HAD to. I got home from watching the episode where Miroku proposes and I just _had_ to write this. I went into a frenzy and drew all these picture for it. I was making myself sick with all the details I put into Sango's kimonos. Seriously. I thought I would die. And then, it turned out that the best picture was the one of her mother! Ah!

Ah well, you didn't need to know that.

Yes, it _is_ another fic with snow in the title. I happen to like snow, people. I was born during the worst blizzard of the year. I'm a winter baby. Thus, snow.

Right, well, that's it for the notes.

Translations: Yes, this story will have Japanese in it. I will, however, include translations and pronunciations. For those of you who are interested, I will add some cultural notes as well, as I have been studying Japanese culture for a VERY long time.

Chichiue- (chi-chi-weh) honorific term for one's father

Geisha- (gee-shah) Contrary to popular belief, geisha were, are not, prostitutes. They are entertainers, and were, up until the Meiji Era, mostly played by men. They were not men in drag, simply men trying to make a living, as it was thought improper for women to do previous to Meiji. To further prove my point, if a geisha lost her virginity, she would have to resign. It is still that way today.

Hime- (hih-may) princess

Houshi- (hoh- shee) Buddhist monk

Katana- A Japanese long sword

Oji- (oh- jee) prince

Sake- (sah- kay) rice wine [A little culture note: Japanese people put a lot of emphasis on the tast of their sake. It is said that when you are happy or things are going your way, your sake tastes good. If something is wrong with you (it's always you that has the problem), then your sake will taste bad. Personally, my sake always tastes bad, so I gotta be the most messed-up person in the world]

-sama- (sah-ma) an honorific that confers great respect

-san- (sah-n) a common honorific, equivalent to Mr., Ms., Miss, Mrs., etc.

Shoji- (shoh- jee) sliding doors

Wakizashi- (wah- kee- zah- shee) A short, light sword used mostly for defense by samurai. If you need an image, it is the sword Sango carries at her belt in the anime and manga.

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-- Blood Upon Snow --

By Ichimu

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Chapter 1, The Shadow's Toll

Screams; blood-curdling, high-pitched wails that pounded like the blood in Sango's ears.

"Come, come, Sango hime," cried the distraught servant tugging at her kimono, trying to keep her eyes down for the sake of courtesy. "We must hurry! We must get you out of here!" The urgency in her voice caused it to crack.

Fire. There was fire that spat and crackled and ate away at everything Sango knew. There were screams that stole her breath and there was fire that destroyed her home.

"This way, hime!" She turned down a corridor. "We must go swift and quiet- like shadows," the servant urged.

Yes, there were shadows too. They entered with the fire, dancing in the blazes' wake. They wielded shining blades that tore souls from their owners and brought the screaming. There were many shadows. The shadows were that which caused her heart to clench with fear.

"Through here, this way." Sango followed her young servant, winding, twisting. They sped past dark rooms were screams latched out at Sango's heart and enticed her to enter. They crept past rooms where the shadows congregated. Finally, they stopped at one door with only one shadow and no screams.

"Chichiue!" Sango breathed. Her voice was scratchy from the heat and length of the retreat. She reached out and her servant reluctantly handed over her wakizashi. The metal that normally felt so light in her hands had her carrying the weight of the entire world tonight. Sango accepted it and with shaking hands, slid open the shoji.

The huge shadow within looked up as Sango entered. His blade was suspended just inches from the man's chest. The shadow's eyes were like ice. They were like ice, but they burned with the fires of hell as they bore into her dark orbs. "Sango-sama" it hissed with a snake-like voice.

Sango's blood froze and her body would not move. The thing, the shadow that stood over her father knew her name. Her father looked up at her, his usually merry black eyes dull with accepted defeat. "Sango-san, what are you doing here?" he asked, blood coming forth from his mouth as he spoke. It trailed down his bearded chin to drip into the pool of crimson life in which he lay sprawled out across the floor.

With a scoff, the shadow flicked his sword. Sango gasped as she felt the true force of the blow brush past her, but her fear kept her feet supplanted. A strangled noise came from behind Sango. She did not turn as her young servant fell to the ground, dead. A pale arm extended across the hardwood floor before Sango's ornate slippers, followed quickly by trails of a dense, red liquid. Sango's blood pounded harder and her throat closed, smothering the scream that she wanted to let free.

"Sango-san, run," her father pleaded.

"Chichiue?" Sango said stupidly as the shadow raised his blade into the air. Every nerve in her body froze over as the shining solid passed through her father's heart, halting his existence in the blink of an eye. Sango's eyes went wide. "Chichiue!" But she was already running. Her body carried her on instinct through the maze of hallways that made up the castle.

Fire cackled in cheerful irony. The corner of her kimono was ablaze, but she was so close to the exit. She did not halt. Sango could feel the icy breath of her pursuer upon her neck and her hair stood on end.

"Sango-sama!"

She whirled around and saw her fiancé, his bloodied katana clutched firmly in his hands. Several shadows lay in a heap at his feet. "Kyoden-sama!" she gasped. 'Don't go,' she begged. Like her servant and her father, Kyoden would die. He would fall to the shadow. But her words would not come forth from her throat.

Kyoden ran past Sango and toward the great mass that stalked her. The shadow responded with his own charge. As the shadow met him, sparks flew from their blades. Kyoden jumped away with a confident smirk upon his face.

His smile vanished as the shadow moved with impossible speed and cast his katana straight through Kyoden's left shoulder. The shadow withdrew the blade and leapt away. With a ragged gasp, Kyoden clutched the wound with his right hand- which still held his katana- and collapsed to his knees. A thin trickle of blood came from his mouth.

"Rise, oji," sneered the shadow. "Rise to meet your death as a prince should." He lifted his katana to his face. A pink tongue emerged from his darkened mass and licked the blood from the blade. He made a small sound of pleasure and then added, "My katana _likes_ the taste of your royal blood. Now, _rise_!"

"No!" Sango choked. She tried to run to Kyoden, but her fiancé raised his right hand, soaked in the vital fluid that had come from his shoulder, to stop her. She froze in her steps and watched with tears in her eyes as Kyoden lifted himself onto his feet.

"There's a good prince," mocked the shadow.

Kyoden rushed forward and only just managed to duck as the shadow whipped his katana towards his head. The shadow's blade instead split the wall it drove through. Kyoden leapt at his opportunity, but the wound he already suffered slowed him just a fraction of a second. And that fraction was all the shadow needed to seal the prince's doom; the shadow ripped his blade from the wall and drove it into Kyoden's right side. As Kyoden's shock froze him, his katana still suspended in the position he had taken for his attack, the shadow pulled the blade out by tearing through Kyoden's whole right side.

This time, Kyoden fell before Sango's feet, his eyes wide with disbelief at the shadow's infinite speed.

It pained Sango when she gasped, for her chest already shook with sobs. She covered he mouth with her hands and gazed upon her dying fiancé, unable to do a thing. Here, before her, her only love was dying, and she could do nothing to comfort him. She was frozen, and she was worthless.

"Sango-sama" Kyoden said roughly, looking up at his young bride-to-be. He extended a hand in front of him, reaching for her. But she was far too distant. A falling sensation over took him. And his eyelids fluttered, almost closed, and a single tear began its journey down his cheek. Everything suddenly seemed so surreal and far-off. He was losing his grip on reality, plunging into a world of blackness.

'No,' he thought suddenly. 'I don't want to die!' His tear-filled eyes flew open and he rose up onto his knees. The shadow hovered above him, katana poised to deliver the final, fatal blow. Kyoden swung his katana around his body in one powerful and rapid movement.

The shadow barked as the sword tore a thin, shallow cut across his neck. He swore fluently and then thrust his blade through Kyoden's unguarded chest. Sango screamed a long, high-pitched wail of despair. The shadow sneered and twisted the blade once before drawing the stained metal from Kyoden's still heart.

Sango cried out as Kyoden hit the floor, the sound of his impact like the dropping of a bomb. She covered her leaking eyes with her hands and ran. They were all dead: her servants, Chichiue, Kyoden and most likely her brother Kohaku. Tears ran down her burning cheeks. As the cold fingers of grief wrapped around her heart, her blood roared in her eardrums. So loud was the pounding that she did not even hear the ceiling collapse behind her.

Sango whirled around as the string of fear that had bound her to the shadow was cut. In place of the monster was a pile of scorching wood. Not sure whether to thank the gods that she had been sparred or to curse them for stealing her everything, Sango ran through the doors and out into the blizzard.

Blood. There was so much blood. Everywhere, the shadows feasted like crows upon the corpses of both shadows and men that littered the ground. It was a grotesque display that lacked any essence of the word civility, or even that of fairness. Sango stood in numb silence as she surveyed what had been the quiet gardens of her home, but was now home to the gruesome scene she watched. Wind beat against her back, accompanied by multitudes of snowflakes, but the cold she felt was inside. Within, her very heart was freezing over.

She was blind to all but terror, and her eyes rested on the crimson landscape that stretched before her. Seeing the blood of so many warriors, so many good people upon the snow, Sango delved into a deep, dark part of her soul. There lay the terrible realization: everything pure could be abolished so easily.

Sango walked away from the burning castle where she had grown up. Everyone would think she was dead. She would like that. It would give her a chance to get her revenge. "Revenge," Sango tried the word on her tongue. It sounded sweet, but seemingly unattainable. She would only freeze up again, like she had when her father had needed her most.

She took hold of the first sharp thing her eyes connected with. It was a small dagger. Sango raised the dagger and ripped a wound in her side, in the same place where Kyoden had been wounded. She bit back a scream. She had never been injured so badly in her life, and never knew a pain so unendurable. She staggered against the weight of agony and desperately attempted to suck air into her lungs. "I swear," she gasped, clutching the wound. "I swear by the pain in my side, I will never freeze up again. "No longer able to sustain herself, she fell to her knees and dropped the dagger.

Amongst the dead, Sango fell asleep, her blood pouring out onto the snow.

---

Sango awoke as a strand of hair was lifted from her sweat-soaked forehead. Slowly, she opened her eyes and found that it was night. Whether or not it was the same night that had destroyed her life, she could not be sure. Nor was she concerned with the matter at the moment. What she _was_ concerned with was who had awoken her.

She looked around and saw, to her amazement, a horse. In fact, it was one of her family's horses. It had been bridled and saddled, so Sango suspected that it must have been brought into combat. The rider, whose boot still hung in the stirrup, must have fallen to the endless waves of shadows. The knees of the horse's forelegs bore mild cuts, but the bleeding had already stopped and the injury was of no real consequence.

Sango drew herself onto her hands and knees, cringing and almost falling back as her side sent pain through her body and halted her breath. She looked at the wound with a critical eye and lowered her obi to cover it. Then, she ordered the horse to crouch down onto the snow. The horse, well trained, obliged.

Then, with gradual progress, Sango began to heave herself into the saddle. Her breaths were brief and quick, and her pain seemed insufferable, but finally she was in the saddle. Sango gingerly tapped the horse's flanks, and she was off, galloping wildly through the blizzard.

---

The sake splashed cheerily as flowed into Miroku's waiting cup. He nodded to the young woman who had poured it for him to signal that that was enough. The point, after all, was to get the girls drunk, not him. They giggled, as if guessing his thoughts.

The geisha at his right was about seventeen. Her eyes were youthful, but her frame was not. Miroku had to admire the fullness of her more important areas at such a young age. Her face was white as snow and her lips were blood red. Her hair was decorated with clips and beads and perfumes. The geisha at his left was older, maybe nineteen. She was similarly decorated, only herimportant areas were much more filled-out. She was playing the lute.

"Houshi-sama," the younger geisha muttered, playfully flicking a strand of hair away from his face. "Don't you think you should-"

But before Miroku could find out what he should do, the shoji was thrust open. A young man scrambled into the room and fell onto the ground at Miroku's feet. He shook and then bowed to Miroku. The two geisha backed away from Miroku as they saw the gesture.

"Ah, Fumihiko," complained Miroku, "You're blowing my cover." He cast a glance in the direction of the older geisha, but both of them lowered themselves into bows as well. 'Damn,' Miroku thought. 'Now I'll never get them drunk enough.'

"My apologies, Miroku oji," the servant Fumihiko said, lowering his head even more. "But there is an important message that your father bid I tell you immediately." The man shook violently as the words left his lip.

"A message?" Miroku said nonchalantly. He sat back and sipped his sake. "And what might that message be?" 'Bitter,' he thought, looking at the sake. 'My sake tastes bitter tonight. But in such good company as thisWhy does it taste like death?'

Fumihiko now placed both hands on the tatami and put his forehead against the mats. "Your elder brother, Kyoden oji, has-he has-"

"He has what?" Miroku asked, drawing himself onto his hands and knees. Anxiety was bubbling up in his stomach. Something was wrong. He had never seen Fumihiko so distraught in his life. "What has Kyoden done?"

A single tear hit the tatami. "Died. Kyoden oji has died."

The two geisha behind Miroku gasped, but Miroku could not even show that much reaction. It felt like he had just been kicked in the stomach. 'Dead? Kyoden isdead? Impossible! He-he couldn't!' Miroku sat back on the pillows, his body falling limp against their feathery mass. "Where? How?" he said, keeping his voice level despite hishis what? Fear? No, that wasn't it. Pain? Not quite. His emptiness? That was it: his sudden and complete emptiness.

"He was staying at the home of Kawate Thoki with his fiancée, Kawate Sango. But their home was attacked. Kyoden died in the fighting," reported Fumihiko.

"And what of his fiancée, Sango?" asked Miroku, still in disbelief at his brother'smisfortune? Why was he at such a loss for words when he needed them most?

"She too died."

Miroku couldn't take it anymore. Sure, he and Kyoden hadn't always gotten along- in fact, Miroku had made it his life's goal to become better than his older brother- but they were brothers. Kyoden had always been better at everything. He was better at getting women, he was better at fighting, he was better at talking to people, he was a better hunter, but most of all, he was a better son to their ailing father. Miroku stood up and walked past Fumihiko to the door.

"Where are you going, Miroku oji?"

"Away," said Miroku. He stepped through the shoji and was gone.

- IchimuHave a heart and please review!


	2. The Weight of Loss

Disclaimer: I don't own Inuyasha, but it'd be pretty cool to be a multi-millionaire

Author's Note: Well, for those of you who think this took a while to update, let me tell you that you're insane. The truth of the matter is, this is the fastest update I've managed in a LONG time! What with going to Rome for three weeks and everything.

Haha. Anyway, I'm SO happy with the turn out of the last chapter. Thank you to everyone who reviewed! You guys are awesome and there are little comments for you at the bottom of the page.

Big thing: News about updates and/or lack of updates are in my profile. Please don't send me e-mails asking where I've been. Check out the News section. It's right at the top of my profile, and I update it pretty regularly (more regularly than I do my fanfics).

I think that's it for now. Story time.

Translations: I promise, there's not as much Japanese in the next chapter. I will translate everything in this chapter that catches my eye, and if you see anything I left out or that you have questions on, _please_ e-mail me.

Arigato (ah-ri-gah-toh): Thank you. Without the following "gozaimasu" to complete the phrase, arigato is semi-informal.

Hai, dozo (hih) (doh-zoh) : Here you go.

Houshi (hoh-shee): Buddhist monk

Kikyo (kee-kyoh): Chinese bellflowers. And yes, the _kanji_ is the same that is used in Kikyo's name.

Namae (nah-meh): Name, a very informal way to ask for someone's name. The lack in polite could be considered a cause of bad upbringing, especially during _Sengoku Jidai_.

Naze (nah-zeh): Why?

(Sango) to moshimasu (toh) (moh-shi-mah-soo): My name is (Sango). A very formal way of stating one's name. The lack of honorific after her name suggests humbleness. In this case, I use it as a response to Miroku's previous informality.

Special translations: A place for all the italicized words in the translations and for translation notes.

Sengoku Jidai (sehn- goh- koo) (jee- di): The time period in which both this story and Inuyasha take place. Known in the dub as "The warring states era". It was a major turning point in Japanese society, in which lords (tono [toh-noh]) ruled over great estates and commanded armies of samurai.

Kanji (kahn-jee): The Japanese characters that the Japanese people use as their writing system.

Japanese R's: In Japanese, the letter 'R' is not pronounced the same way. Rather, it is somewhere between the 'R' and 'L' sound.

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Chapter 2, The Weight of Loss

The snow hit her face as she rode, not at all subdued by the cloud of warm air that streamed from her parted lips. She shivered uncontrollably. Her side bled still, causing her vision to become even more askew. To her, there existed no world outside of the snow, her horse's footfalls- earth-shatteringly loud against the ice- the pain that shook her, and the road ahead of her.

And although other distractions were tangible somewhere beyond her field of vision, her mind was focused wholly on where she was going: to the Takara kingdom, to Kyoden's birthplace. Here, she would convince Kyoden's father, Takara Bairei to motivate the troops and prepare for an all-out war against the shadows. The Takara kingdom would throw their support to her, almost equally aggrieved as her at the lost of their eldest prince, and with their help, she would find the shadow and _she _would destroy it.

It was dark and the moon and stars were shrouded in a thick layer of storm clouds. They hung eerie and dark in the sky, their linings covered in the silver that Sango could not, would not see. The snow had already accumulated to quite an amount, and ice lay under the covering of the white substance. The road was treacherous and abandoned, unfortunately for Sango, for at that moment her horse's gallop was halted by the presence of a protruding chunk of ice, which had been unnoticed in the dim. With a whinny of distress, the horse toppled over.

Sango did as years of horseback riding had taught her: she attempted to leave the saddle so that her leg would not be trapped beneath the heavy horse. However, her left foot caught in her stirrup and the horse collapsed on top of her ankle. Sango cried out in agony as her ankle made a cracking noise and a tingling pain shot up her leg. Her face contorted with pain, she pushed the horse and gingerly removed her ankle from underneath.

The horse scrambled to its feet. The whites of its eyes showing in fear of what it had struck and the pain in its hoof, it reared. Sango cried out again and tried her best to remove herself from harm's way. She grabbed onto a root that stuck up from the road and pulled herself away from the vicious steed. Landing, the horse tossed its head, stomped its forelegs, and dashed off into the wooded area beside the road. Sango watched it disappear into the thick woods with disheartenment and then lay back into the snow.

It was useless. She was trapped now. No horse and a, at the least, fractured ankle, Sango would have to spend the night the bandit-infested No-Mans land between the kingdom of her father and that of the Takada family. She chuckled softly at the pure irony of the situation. If her home had not been attacked, she and Kyoden would have been the soon-to-be Lord and Lady of this land. Somehow, she didn't think the bandits would take that into consideration before they robbed and possibly raped her.

Sango took the root in her hand again and dragged herself from the road. Now in the untouched snow of the roadside, she closed her eyes and lapsed into unconsciousness.

---

"Miss, are you alright?" asked a familiar voice.

'Kyoden!' Sango's heart screamed. Her mahogany eyes opened and her blue lips part in a happy grin. He wasn't dead! All this had been just a bad dream. But then, her eyes focused and she frowned. "Who-who are you?" she asked. A cruel illusion, that was all it had been. She had been tricked into thinking that this young houshi was her lost love.

"My name is Miroku," reported the young man. "I'm just a traveling servant of Buddha, miss." He began looking through his robes for something. "Namae?" he asked rather informally.

"Sango to moshimasu," she replied, trying to drown her sobs with the formality she was accustomed to. How completely cruel; this young man who sounded so much like Kyoden even had the same name as his little brother.

"Hai, dozo," he prompted, showing her what he had taken from his robes. They were bandages. To her questioning gaze he answered, "Your side is bleeding very badly. Would you allow me to wrap it for you? Then, I'll make sure you get somewhere warm to spend the night."

Sango nodded, but before she could answer him she lost all words, for in that instant, their eyes had met. "Amethyst," she mumbled, forgetting herself completely. She had never seen more captivating eyes in her whole life. Within those violet orbs was a gentleness she had thought had perished from the world when her only love had died.

Miroku blinked and then chuckled softly. Most people found his eyes surprising, but none had ever been so surprised before. He had his mother's eyes, of course, but she had been shut up in her room slowly dying since giving birth to him. His were the eyes that he was never allowed to look upon his father with. "Yes, they're my mother's," he said, almost more to himself.

"Oh," Sango breathed, feeling color run into her cheeks. She averted her eyes to Miroku's hands as he tore the fabric of her kimono, exposing Sango's self-afflicted wound.

Miroku frowned deeply. "Who did this to you?"

Sango looked to the disturbance in the snow that showed where her horse had fallen. It had almost completely disappeared underneath snow, so she assumed she must have been out for a while. "I did it."

"Naze?" Miroku asked, horror-stricken.

Sango felt a single tear drift down her cheek, but could not find the energy to wipe the heinous object away. "Because I wanted to die."

Miroku shook himself and picked up the bandages had dropped. "Why would you want to that when there are so many things to live for? A wealthy girl like you should have a nice big home, large gardens, servants, food, and a family who loves you."

"No," she said, the shaking in her voice uncontrollable. "No family. They're all dead. My home was attacked this very night and was laid to waste. Furthermore, everyone whom I hold dear was killed: my father, my little brother, and my fiancé."

Once again, Miroku dropped the bandages. He whipped his head around and looked into Sango's face. Snowy white and painted without need. Mahogany eyes so longing that it hurt not to love them. Fine clothes that floated around the most perfect image of feminine beauty god had ever created. And lastly, her fragrance: the sensual smells of both irises and white plums that haunted the one who beheld it. "Sango" he breathed, seeing for the first time the woman his brother had been willing to die for.

Sango turned at the tender stating of her name and met Miroku's eyes. They were so bitter-sweetly happy that she gasped. Miroku quickly redirected his gaze and turned his attention to her side.

"I too have suffered a loss this night," he said softly. He gasped as her fingers closed around his hand. Silk. Touching her fingers was like touching silk. He looked up at her and saw an enormous suffering in her dark eyes.

"Please" she said in a hushed voice. "Please do not say that your loss is greater than mine, or I shall not be able to contain my tears." She clutched his hand tighter, an uncouth gesture for such a brief first meeting. Somehow, though, the fact that she had mistaken this monk for her love made the gesture seem almost acceptable.

Miroku smiled sadly at her. "I would say we're just about even," he said with a solemn nod. Then, he reached out and finally began to dress the wound.

Sango's hand retracted as his fingers touched the sensitive skin of her side. They were warm, but it was more than that. They were callused to a level that caused comfort to arise from the scratchy surface. Shivers tickled up her spine as his deft hands brushed against her injury with the softness she had seen first in his eyes. Trust welling up in her heart, she lay back into the snow and fell asleep.

Miroku looked over at the girl when the wrapping was completed. She had surrendered to unconsciousness again, he realized with a sigh. This was going to make things more difficult. He sat back. His journey here had been hard, and he had wanted so badly to reach the Kawate mansion to survey the damage himself. But now, he had Sango to care for. He couldn't bury his brother just yet.

Thinking of his brother, his eyes had strayed without his knowledge to Sango once again. When he broke free from his musings, he did not chastise his eyes, but rather let them remain on her peaceful face. He reached out and tentatively brushed a finger along her headpiece that consisted of kikyo blossoms and so much ebony hair that was not hers. Her smirked mockingly as he ran a finger against the hair that grew from her roots, removing the black paint to expose the true maple glow beneath.

With a sigh, Miroku stood and picked up the young princess. It felt weird, as if he were doing his brother's job. Miroku smiled and lifted his face to the heavens, allowing the snow to drift onto his cheeks. "Well, Kyoden, I don't see you here to do it." He looked down at Sango. Something stirred within his chest. "She needs you, Kyoden. Why'd you have to be a fucking hero? Why do you always have to be so goddamn noble?" He choked back tears bravely. "Well, if you're not going to protect her, I will."

---

When Sango awoke this time, it was not to the supposed voice of her fiancé, but rather to the gentle caress of a beam of sunlight. She rolled onto her side before opening her eyes in order to avoid being struck in the face by the light. The first thing she noted was that she was in a bed. The next thing that caught her attention was that was inside. She sat up and looked around herself.

On the floor beside her lay her hair extensions and her headpiece. Also lying on the floor were her torn robes, now washed to clean perfection and her shoes. She was clothed in a simple white kimono used for sleeping. She was in the room of an inn, not to mention that she occupied the only futon in the room. She wondered if the houshi had left after dropping her off.

As if in answer to her musings, Miroku stepped through the door. "Ah, good, you're awake," he commented. He crossed the room and handed her a towel. "Your bath is ready."

'So he didn't leave,' thought Sango, accepting the towels with a stiff nod. "Arigato." She looked up at him, then around at the room. There was no where to sleep accept on the futon. "Did you sleep in a separate room, then?" she wondered aloud.

Miroku laughed. She looked up at him. His laugh was so similar to Kyoden's warm, friendly, and inviting. Why, if he weren't a priest, she'd think that maybe this man actually _was_ Kyoden's younger brother! "No, there were no vacancies. I slept on the floor over there," he said animatedly, jerking his thumb to the corner. When Sango's eyebrows met, he smiled warmly and said, "Don't worry about it. It's a break from sleeping in the woods."

Sango nodded shyly and stood, biting back a yelp as her ankle objected vehemently to her weight. She bowed briefly and then scurried off to the bath. Miroku watched her go and then crept toward the bath room, a smug look on his face.

- Ichimu

KeeraSango: Wow, I really don't think I'm _that _good. Maybe your opinion's changed after reading this chapter. Haha. I hope not! Thank you for being so encouraging!

cherryblosomz: haha! I always update

Irasuto: I'm glad you thought the character development was intriguing!

DarkHeartKeyblade: Of course he has a family, what do you think, he popped out of the air? Haha, I'm just playing with you. If you like that he has a family, you'll learn more about them as the story goes on!

Taishoku Kurayami: I'm glad you're enjoying it!

PinkRikku: I LOVE Rikku, if you're referring to FFX. I'm really honored to be your first San-Mir! I've never seen either of the parings you've mentioned. They soundinteresting. Ha. I'm so happy that my story 'ROCKS!'

evelyn12345: After such a great turnout, how could I not continue?

Thanks again for your support, _minna-san_!


	3. Stolen and Scarlet

Disclaimer: If I owned Inuyasha, it wouldn't have ended, so there.

Author's Note: Finally got this chapter out. Wow. I finished this entire chapter, was about to update it, and then realized I hated it. So, I took it all the way back to the drawing board. This chapter sapped a lot of creative energy from me.

I think I need a nap.

Typo-o's may be present as I was in a hurry to finish this.

Translations:

Ee (eh)- A feminine affirmative response

Gi (gee): A simple Japanese shirt. For reference, there's Kikyo's white shirt.

Hakama (hah-kah-mah): These are pants traditionally worn by the men of Japan. See Kikyo's red pants.

Hentai (hen- tie): a pervert

Joden and Gedan (ju-den) (geh-dan): two of the basic stances of kendo (sword arts). Jodan is sword lifted overhead and Gedan is low-level, downward, sweeping block.

Shakujou (shah-ku-joh): Miroku's golden staff with the rings

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Chapter 3, Stolen and Scarlet

Once her bath was finished, Sango slipped into a fresh traveling kimono and stormed out of the bath room, past a physically abused Miroku. She lifted her nose to him and then placed herself on a cushion before the table. On the low-lying table was tea for the morning, along with fruits and some sweets.

For awhile, Miroku just watched her daintily sip her tea, rubbing the not-so-cute red hand print on his cheek. Then he joined her. The only noises that filled the air between were those heinous ones that always happen when you try to impress someone with how well you can drink your tea. Several times, Miroku tried to strike up a conversation, but only half-heartedly. Sango replied out of courtesy, and then let the matter slide.

"What will you do now?" Miroku wondered aloud, gazing off into the snow-covered hill that stretched beyond the open shoji. The air was chilly, but their kimono and the lingering steam of the bath kept cold from prickling their skin. Little clouds of condensation slipped from their mouths.

Sango was watching a winter bird shake snow from its feathers, so for a while she did not answer. Finally, she slammed her cup down on the table, causing its scalding hot contents to splash dangerously. The bird took to frenzied flight. "I'm going to get revenge on the monster who destroyed my life and left me living in shame!" Sango declared, her face flashed with the passion of her decisiveness.

Miroku closed his eyes. He let a deep breath fill his body, then stream out. When he once again released the amethyst lanterns, he looked directly at Sango. She shrunk back under the intense question in his eyes. Miroku hated to ask it, but he had to knowHe had to know that his brother's death wasn't in vain. "Did you love him: the one the monster destroyed?"

Sango blinked and for a minute, Miroku was afraid that his brother's name would be shamed. He did not want to know the answer if that was it. But just then, a wistful smile crossed Sango's lips, smothering all his fears in its profound beauty. "Oh, yes" she whispered. A ragged sigh betrayed the secrecy of her tears. "He saw me for what I was, and he loved me despite of it."

Miroku frowned. "Hmm?" he questioned softly. As Kyoden's brother, he had every right to ask the question, but as the houshi she thought he was, Miroku was stepping on dangerous ground.

Sango blushed softly. "It was something that would have left me an outcast from society; I've never told anyone but Kyoden." Her tone of voice was apologetic, but she needn't be so to a houshi. Miroku hoped she didn't suspect him.

Miroku watched as Sango rose, obviously considering the conversation over, and saw a feline-like grace he had missed before. He noted muscles a hime could not possibly have. Scars peeked out from beneath the folds of her kimono. He detected deftness and dexterity in her dark orbs. " You're a warrior," he breathed, surprised by his own findings.

Sango spun around, her mouth open and gaping. "How did you-"

Miroku shrugged, cutting short her already weak strain of words. "It's not hard once you notice the small things."

Sango scowled. "No one's noticed before, not even Kyoden. How could you have guessed?"

Miroku shrugged again, causing Sango to get irritated. "You have scars. Princesses aren't supposed to have scars. You also have sword blisters on your hands. Maybe I'm just more observant than anyone else. And, to take it a step further, the reason you are shamed by the disaster at your home is because- as a warrior- you could do nothing to stop it, am I right?"

Sango's brows knit together and she looked at the ground. "Yes," she whispered.

"And you want to destroy this monster to regain your family honor and inflict vengeance for the stripping of that honor?" Miroku ventured warily, watching the hime to check for any tears. He did not want to make her cry.

Sango turned to him, a fierce resolve in her mahogany eyes. "Yes."

A warm, boyish smile crossed Miroku's face. "Then I'm coming with you."

A breeze passed through the shoji, passing between the roguishly handsome Miroku, who was still grinning, and a stunned Sango. The rings on Miroku's shakujou jingled merrily. Miroku and Sango turned toward the noise, Miroku's smile spreading as he observed the scene. "Buddha agrees," he commented, taking his shakujou firmly in his hands.

Sango beamed.

So, it was only an hour later that the two of them were walking along on the highway. Sango was wearing a traveling kimono, her finer kimono rolled up with her hair piece and other possessions in a pack slung over her shoulders. She paced ahead of the burden less Miroku, who was massaging yet another slap mark on his cheek.

The two of them were traveling in the No-Man's land again. They were headed to the Kawate kingdom, Sango to find any salvaged weapons she could use, Miroku to find information on the attackers, and both to bury loved ones.

"You know, houshi-sama," Sango said, her face still flushed, "you don't act very much like a devote follower of Buddha."

"How so?" Miroku asked, trotting up to hear her better. He held his free hand within his robe to muffle the shivering of the coins in his purse. His purse was heavy with a princely allowance, while a true houshi was restricted by religion from carrying a cent. If Sango caught him, his disguise would be blown. This façade was a reprieve from having to carry the weight of a prince's responsibility. In this form, Miroku could be whom he chose: a free man unconcerned with etiquette and honor. Something about the way Sango carried herself- in that easy, carefree manner- would not let him give away his true identity.

"Well, you're the biggest hentai I've ever met," Sango growled.

Miroku sighed inwardly. Her anger meant she did not suspectyet. He released his coinage and draped the hand over his forehead in a mock faint pose. "Houshi-desu!" he stated.

Sango was going to say more, but just then something was thrown through the air. It landed at her feet. She gasped, seeing too late the inky-black gas that floated up from the cylindrical object. She covered her mouth quickly, but her lungs had already been infected. And the poison was fast.

Miroku watched as Sango staggered back and, before Miroku could stop her, tripped over a root that was sticking up from the road. Miroku's stomach twisted and a sinking feeling came from within him as he watched Sango fall. She landed hard on her back and did not get back up.

Miroku turned just in time to see a fist being hurtled toward his face. With a cry of alarm, Miroku ducked and jumped away several feet to survey his opponent.

The man who stood before him was tall, easily six feet. In his right hand was clutched a katana. His clothes consisted of a hakama and gi. No armor was present. A wakizashi hung at his side. A black shroud masked his whole faceincluding his eyes.

The antagonist sprung forward, aiming his katana at Miroku's side, but Miroku easily redirected the blow with his shakujou. The metal rings jingled together ominously as the swordsman whirled around, bringing his katana. Miroku pulled back just in time, and lost only a few hairs.

Miroku frowned. He was unaccustomed to this sort of fighting. True, he had been tutored in the use of rods, such as his shakujou, but he never used it against a human in true combat. Moreover, his houshi robes were a strange hindrance in a fight with a man. With a youkai, Miroku was perfectly mobile with shakujou and robes, but human speed and attacks were different. Everything was calculated; there was no blood lust to subjugate human reason.

Miroku dodged another blow and landed beside. He cursed softly. There was no way for him to take advantage of the swordsman's weaknesses! The sword was meant to fight against another of its kind. In this situation, with so much skill at the swordsman's disposal, Miroku could not take the offensive.

The swordsman lunged, and a sudden idea hit Miroku. With deftness, he rolled forward. He reached up, half blinded by the snow his roll had kicked up, and closed his hand around the object of his desire. Springing up, he unsheathed the wakizashi he had stolen and turned to face his opponent.

The swordsman chuckled. "You intend to fight me with a wakizashi? Are you mad? I'll rip you apart! You were better off with your staff, houshi."

"We'll see," said Miroku with a smug grin. He moved into an elaborate fighting stance, derived from the basic form of Jodan. The swordsman, as Miroku had hoped, took the Gedan position to counter his stance. Then, Miroku rushed him.

But the instant Miroku found the opening he had been waiting for, a strong kick hit Miroku in the lower back and sent him sprawling, snowflakes scattering as Miroku struck the road face-first.

Miroku tried to move, but he found that the kick had been calculated to leave him paralyzed. Words would not come to his lips. He cursed mentally and then settled himself to listening to the words of the unseen bandits.

"Good kick," commented the swordsman. He heard the sheathing of the katana, felt the wakizashi lifted from his hands, and heard that also being sheathed. Then, he noted the keen sound of a strong cord being twisted and knew the bandits were binding Sango's hands and feet.

"Thanks, aniki," said a younger man. "I knocked him clean unconscious."

"Yeah. Good job." Then Miroku heard the sound of a boot against flesh and Sango moaned painfully. Anger bubbled up inside Miroku. "She's got a bad wound here, but she'll fetch a pretty penny once she's cleaned up and handed over to the boss."

Miroku jerked in defiance. "NO!" he screamed wordlessly. He had made a promise, and he intended to keep it. He wouldn't let them sell Sango into slavery, no matter what. He struggled with rage and frustration against his unresponsive body.

And because Miroku could not stop them, they marched away unchallenged, carrying Sango on their horse. Shortly after they left, exhaustion devoured Miroku's consciousness and he fell into a deep and fitful sleep.

When he awoke, it was midday and the shadows hung under the base of the trees, hardly visible. His clothes were soaked through with snow and he was chilled. But the sun had warmed his back enough that his muscles had loosened up some. He stood, knowing there wasn't a moment to lose, and began to track.

It was true that Kyoden had been a better tracker than Miroku, but that did not make Miroku bad it made Kyoden unfathomable. Miroku's eyes found Sango's kidnappers' trail at a glance. One had rather large feet and was a very tall man: the one Miroku had fought. The other set was of a small and light man: the one who had kicked Miroku in the back. And then there were the horse's tracks. The trail was deep, which meant the horse had been traveling at a paced speed. This caused Miroku to scowl; anything other than a walk would be dangerous to Sango's health. Since the nearby branches had been shaken of their snow, the boy had come and gone from the trees. The older man had been sure to leave an obvious trail through the pines, coaxing Miroku to follow. Despite his desire to avenge his humiliation, Sango was not with either of the men. Miroku began to follow the horse's trail.

The trail wound through the forest, off the beaten trail, through sunset, into nightfall, and ended at a brothel. Miroku growled. It wasn't slavery the bandits had sold Sango to, it was worse! To sell a noble woman's body was pure treachery, and Miroku would see to it that the men received their just punishment. With a cry of frustration, Miroku kicked open the door and entered the whorehouse.

A man of huge girth and fine clothes stepped up to impede upon Miroku's progress. "Where do you think you're going, sir?" the man said with a sharp glare.

Miroku almost barked at the man, but restrained himself just in time. He looked at himself and realized that his costume had been stripped of the items that would identify him as a houshi. He checked and found his wallet was still in place in the folds of his robe. He extracted the purse and held it up for the man to see. "You are the owner of this establishment?"

"That I am," said the man, eyeing the heavy purse.

Miroku tugged on the drawstring and dumped a rich sum into his palm. "I am looking for a companion to ward off the chill of a lonely winter night."

The man smiled deviously and extended his palm to accept the coins. "Well, then we shall make sure you are lonely no longer, my friend." He slipped the coins into his own wallet and then clapped his hands loudly.

From the lines of shoji appeared eight beautiful, pale-skinned maidens. Dark, perfumed hair fell across their bosoms and framed their made-up faces. Finely printed satin kimono hung loosely around their petit bodies.

"These are all the whores we have available at the moment. You may take your pick of any. They'll see to it that you have a hot bath, a change of clothes, and somepleasure," the man said, lifting his eyebrows.

Miroku nodded, surveying the girls. The one at the end regarded him with a cunning and knowing sharpness in her icy crystal-colored eyes, while all the others gazed at him as if through a fog. This one was keen though, and -Miroku felt- dangerous. Her dark hair glinted red into the light, and her black kimono was decorated with fiery phoenixes peeking out from behind ornate white fans. Miroku decided, and pointed directly toward her. "I'll take that one."

The man looked surprised, in an amused way. "Ah, Scarlet." He dismissed the other girls with a wave of his hand and they shrunk back into their rooms with quiet reproach at not having been chosen. The afore-mentioned woman stepped forward to accept her charge.

"Sir, this is Scarlet. Scarlet this is" the man looked puzzled and turned to Miroku. "I'm sorry, sir, but I've quite forgotten to ask your name!"

"Miroku," the houshi introduced himself.

Scarlet's icy eyes widened for a fraction of a second, and then a smile crossed her rouged lips. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Miroku-sama," her voice was rich, deep, mysterious, and beautiful. Miroku thought it suited her nicely. She took his callused hand in her silky fingers and led him into her room.

The entire room was decorated splendidly. The bed was covered in crimson satin covers, with pillows stacked high. Red curtains masked the walls and ceiling. The light came dimly from a red paper lantern. Everywhere, splendor hung in the color of the whore's namesake. Scarlet led him through the room and into the bathroom.

It too, was rather elaborate. She helped him remove his clothes and then aided him in getting into the heated waters. Then, she proceeded to massage perfumes and soaps into his body, minding the wounds.

"Miroku-sama," she breathed on his neck, giving him goosebumps. "Were you in battle recently?" She ran her fingers across the bruise on Miroku's lower back.

"Yes," Miroku answered, closing his eyes comfortably. "Have you heard of any battles around here recently?"

"Ee," she assured him in her soft and deep voice. "A bandit arrived here this afternoon, gloating about the success of a battle along the highway. They brought a girl with them. A lovely little thing."

Miroku opened his eyes and his body stiffened. "A girl?"

Scarlet pushed her breasts against his back. "Yes, Miroku-sama, a girl. Younger than I, she was. She had brown hair and poor clothes. The others say she had a nasty cut on her side."

"Do you know where they took her?" Miroku asked, trying desperately to hold his attention on the subject. Scarlet was clever; maybe he had bite off more than he could rightly chew. Already, he could feel himself loosing control over his body.

"To the cellars," Scarlet answered, placing a kiss upon Miroku's shoulder.

"Scarlet, I-"

But Miroku never got to finish what he was going to say, for just then, Scarlet grabbed a bottle of perfume and brought it down across the back of Miroku's head. She was surprisingly strong; Miroku never had a chance. His head spun violently and the water rushed up toward him. Then, he was overpowered by dizziness and was unconscious in seconds.


	4. Unforseen Aid

Disclaimer: As if.

Author's Note: This is a short chapter, and basically I wrote it because I was so happy that everyone reviewed so quickly! And not only was it fast and thorough, but I received WONDERFUL reviews. You guys have NO idea how happy that makes me.

Alright, well, there's nothing that I really want to say except thank you for your kind reviews, thank you for reviewing the first place, and I'm SO GLAD that you like it!

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Chapter 4,Unforeseen Aid

Miroku awoke with the worst headache of his entire life. Even hangovers weren't this bad. He wondered how he had earned such horrible pain until he tried to reach the bump. Then, he found his hands bound and remembered everything that had transpired in the fragrant haze of his bath. The memory of his humiliation rushing him in full Technicolor vision, Miroku taught the cavernous blackness around him a few colorful curses.

Somewhere behind him, there was a whisper of silk and a soft moan of protest to Miroku's infringement on the silence. The prince's heart leapt in his throat and he struggled to turn toward the sound, his amethyst eyes searching the pitch for the one responsible for the disturbance. After minutes that felt like years, the room's other occupant moved again, with greater purpose, and two familiar dark eyes caught the sliver of light that had broken through the confining dark. "Houshi-sama is that you?"

Miroku thanked Buddha and exhaled in relief. "Sango, you're alright," he sighed, lifting himself onto his knees with pure force of will.

The hime nodded mutely, then realized the gesture could not be seen and whispered, "Yes, I'm fine. But how are you? And how did you end up in here?"

Miroku smiled weakly. "I'm fine. I got beat up by one of the prostitutes of this 'fine establishment'."

Sango chuckled a bit, in spite of herself. "So you got beaten by a girl?"

Miroku frowned; it was not a subject he wanted to discuss. Who ever heard of a prince losing his edge and falling into the deceptive coils of an unrefined woman? And moreover, she had defeated him in the one area Miroku could gloat about: his cunning. He decided to change the topic, sensing the conversation's direction. "Are you unbound?"

"Ee," Sango said, and Miroku heard the grimace in her voice. "Apparently they tied me loosely, thinking I couldn't get free."

Miroku had to hold back a laugh. "I wish they had extended the gesture to me as well, but it seems I'm tied securely enough. Would you mind undoing these binds? Then maybe we can find a way out of here."

There was another rustle of silk as Sango stood and moved over to him. When she got close enough, Miroku felt a strand of Sango's earthen-colored hair tickle his cheek. There lingered still some of the heavenly perfumes it had previously been laden with. He found it calming, and breathed deeply as the hime began to work the tight cords around Miroku's hands and feet.

After several minutes of labor, Sango wailed quietly, "This would be so much easier if I had something sharp!"

The words set of a light bulb in Miroku's head. "Ne, Sango, do you still have your pack with you?"

"Yeah," said Sango, hardly listening, as she was preoccupied with the cords. "I'm wearing the kimono from my bag right now since I was so cold." Suddenly, the words seeped into Sango's skull and her hands stopped feverishly working the bindings. "Why do you ask?"

Miroku smiled. "The hairpins are still there?"

Sango gave a happy little cry. "Yes, yes they are!" She stood then and scuttled away, her footsteps growing weaker as she went. Roughly ten yards away, Miroku heard another jovial exclamation and Sango presently returned to his side.

"I've got it!" Miroku could practically feel her beaming. She moved around to his back and put the cold metal pin in his hand so her could feel it. Then, she took the pin and began to saw the ropes.

A few moments later, Miroku's hands were free and then his legs. Taking Sango with him, Miroku rose to his feet. He stretched his muscles out carefully, targeting the areas of pain, and then reached up to examine the bump on the back of his head. The instant he touched it, the pain that shivered through him caused him to feel queasy again. He steadied himself and then more carefully studied the bump with his fingertips.

It was huge, and Miroku had to admit he was surprised that the blow hadn't killed him, or at least redistributed his memory.

Miroku felt the air to his left quiver as Sango groped through the darkness for him. He reached out and closed his hands around hers.

"Houshi-sama," she muttered, "how do we get out of here?"

Miroku scowled and pondered this for several minutes, ignoring the pounding that emitted from his bump.

Finally, he had it.

--

The thin, petite figure of a woman moved down the stairs with liquid-like grace, her icy-blue eyes scanning the carpeted room below for any occupants. When she found none, she smirked and rushed toward the cellar door, her deep, deep black hair catching the light with a crimson sheen. Her stealthy steps were heard within, and she noted the scurrying of the captives. Her rouged smirk grew cockier.

Approaching the lock, she produced the key from within her rose-colored kimono. She turned the key and with a cautious look around, the woman opened the door. She watched amusedly as the houshi stumbled into the light, blinking ferociously and moving to protect the princess. "Ah," she sniggered, her rich voice heavy with sarcasm, "so noble, houshi."

Miroku made a face as he recognized the woman before him. "Scarlet"

The woman answered in the affirmative.

The princess grabbed the houshi's robes. "Houshi-sama, this is the whore who beat you?"

Scarlet's harsh, crystal eyes flashed and she glared at Sango with dangerous ferocity. "Well, we can't all pull off the pretty, sweet, virginal maidens-in-distress act, can we, hime?" Her every word oozed with poison. Sango flinched and moved back into the shadows. Seeing her words had left a sufficient mark on the princess, Scarlet let her anger disperse. She then beckoned to them to follow her.

Miroku hesitated. She sighed, exasperated. "Please, I'm not going to hurt you." She rolled her icy-blue eyes and motioned again. "You don't have a lot of time if you want to get out of here, and I'm the only one with the keys to your escape route." She pulled a set of keys from her kimono. As she did, she exposed a small tattoo of a phoenix on her chest. Miroku made a mental note of the defining mark.

The houshi arched an eyebrow. "And why should we trust you? You're one of the bad guys, aren't you?"

A sly smile filled Scarlet's pretty face. "Houshi, I have no loyalties to any group. I'm a drifter, and I serve whosoever will help me best." As she spoke, she crossed the room and removed Miroku's shakujou from a chest. She tossed it to him.

Sango grimaced. "A cowardly way of life," she spat.

"Perhaps," Scarlet said, "but I get what I want. And that's all that's important to me. Maybe I'll pay for it someday, but it really makes no difference to me right now." Normally, she wouldn't have let the comment pass so easily, but she had already injured the princess's pride, and no further retribution was required.

Miroku hesitated a moment longer, studying Scarlet's face, which she kept devoid of emotion. Finally, he reached back and wrenched Sango from the cellar. "Show us the way."

"That's what I like to hear," Scarlet smiled.

--

It was no time before they were out in the open again. Ahead of them stretched a small service road, which turned sharply ten yards ahead of them and out of view.

"How can we be sure we can trust her, houshi-sama?" Sango whispered into Miroku's ear as he helped her from the underground passage they had taken.

It was Scarlet who answered, however. "I ask you, hime, aren't you free?" Against the snowy background, her mysterious and majestic beauty was even more evident. Her glossy locks poured over her shoulders, which were unshielded by the crimson kimono she wore. Her un-blemished face bore a look of amusement.

"You could have an ambush awaiting us," Sango pointed out, motioning toward the bend in the road.

Scarlet shrugged and then smiled wickedly. "I could, but then again, I could not. The option is yours: go back to the cellars where you know you'll be safe until they hand you over to the master, or you could take your chance at freedom."

Miroku frowned. "Why are you helping us?" he asked. "What can we possibly do for you that would aid you?"

Scarlet's evil smile grew. "I sense that we will meet again, houshi. And when that time comes, I'd rather not be the one in debt to you."

This time, when she said houshi', there was a distinct hint of sarcasm in her voice. Could it be possible that she knew?! Miroku dismissed the thought, not wanting to dwell on it, grabbed Sango, and began down the road.

--

Several hours later, Sango and Miroku left the highway and moved up the towering hill upon which lay the ruined testament of the Kawate regime. Blinded by the success of their escape, it never occurred to either of them to think of what might lay ahead

For deep in the smoldering remains of the once proud estate, a shadow lingered, its mouth full of curses for the sole survivor. Hate festering within its blackened heart, the shadow waited in growing apprehension for the return of the himeand for the oji who accompanied her.

-Ichimu

P.S. Don't you just _love _cliffhangers?? Reviewing makes me type faster (it really does!)!!!!


	5. Ashes to the Wind and Kyoden's Gift

Disclaimer: No. I don't own it. Please don't sue.

Author's Note: Sorry that this took longer than expected. I really did love your reviews, and I really appreciate them. It's just that I've had a massive amount of projects/essays this week. In fact, I should be doing my US History project right now, but oh well. Who would rather type an article about the Battle of Gettysburg than a chapter of BUS? Obviously, I wouldn't.

This is a very sad chapter, and it has a lot of my soul put into it. Whether it's any good or not, it's up to you to decide and review upon. I hope you like it. I was going to make it longer, but I like the spot where I ended. I hope you do, too.

No Japanese (at least I don't think so)

Chapter 5, Ashes to the Wind and Kyoden's Will

"Stop squirming!"

"But Sango-!" Miroku whined.

Sango grabbed his ear and Miroku began to protest accordingly. "I told you to sit still! How am I _ever_ going to get this wrapped if you keep moving?!"

The hime and Miroku were sitting together by a makeshift campfireneither of them had ever spent an entire night alone in the woods, so their survival skills were limited. Sango had found a first aid kit amongst the robes Scarlet had given to Miroku and herself and was now wrapping - or rather, trying to wrap- Miroku's head.

"There!" Sango exclaimed, exasperated. She cut the gauze and patted it against his head to make sure it would stay. "Now, was that really so bad?" She began putting the supplies back in the kit where they had come from.

"Yes!" Miroku replied loudly, rubbing the dressed wound on the back of his head.

Sango rolled her eyes and picked one of the logs in the fire. She proceeded to clear an area to sleep on by melting the snow. Miroku watched her carefully, fascinated that she had thought of such a logical way to get rid of such an obstruction. He never would have thought of it! Soon, so as not to look suspicious, he began to imitate her. Between them, they soon had a very nice, large ring cleared. They settled down near the fire and waited for the ground to dry.

"We have a problem," Sango said after a time.

"What's that?" Miroku asked, looking up from the fire that he was prodding.

Sango pointed at the sack of supplies. "The robes Scarlet gave us"

Miroku blinked, clueless as to what she was suggesting. "What about them?"

"Houshi-sama," Sango moaned, aggravated, "they're _houshi _robes. I clearly am _not _a man, so how could I be a houshi?!"

"Oh" Miroku said helpfully.

Sango let out a sigh of irritation and stood up. "Is that all you have to say? 'Oh'? 'Oh' is not going to solve this problem."

"I think you're overreacting," Miroku accused. "After all, it's not that hard to act the part." He bit his lip as he realized that he would know that better than anyone. "All you have to do is not show you're face, which is what you were planning in the first place. You could cut your hair-"

"I most certainly will not!" Sango cried, grabbing the mahogany locks as if to keep them safe.

"-or we could bind it on top of your head and give you a hat. She provided a rice hat, didn't she? Good, good." Miroku was grinning broadly and seemed not to notice the scowl on Sango's face. "Actually, if you think about it, Scarlet provided you with the perfect disguise."

Sango stuck out her lower lip, but did not say anything further on the matter.

-

Morning came quickly; the melting snow reflected the sky's coloring of a blushing peach. Miroku soon found himself being prodded awake. He opened one amethyst eye and looked for the one responsible for his rude awakening. He found her sitting beside him on the snow, the brim of her basket-like hat shading her eyes. "Wow," he said as his jaw dropped. He sat up and surveyed the metamorphosis.

Sango blushed brightly. She was clothed similarly to Miroku, but the lack of prayer beads and violet cloth showed her to be of a lower order, his apprentice so to speak. As the costume was for one not yet assimilated in the order, Sango carried a woven crate on her back in which they would keep all their supplies. "I-I already put my stuff in the pack, so you can get changed and we'll go." She moved to the edge of the clearing. "I'll wait for you on the road."

Miroku nodded mutely, still astounded by the transformation. He changed quickly, happy to be out of his disgusting old robes. He threw the former robes in the brush, scattered the ashes of their fire, and removed any other sign that they had spent the night in this clearing. Then, he went to meet Sango.

In the clearing he had left behind, one of the trees shook roughly. In a slow and painful looking process, a silver-scaled lizard-shaped youkai detached itself from the tree, regaining its shape as it went. Finally, it stood on its two hind legs, staring after the unsuspecting forms of the houshi and Sango as they disappeared over the horizon line. It cackled ruefully, and then scuttled off into the woods to inform its master of who he had spotted during his nap.

-

"Tomomi! Tomomi"

A petite and supple-limbed girl looked up from her washing. She was in her teens, though her body was curved beyond her years. Her Holm berry lips whose ends were more often than not curled in a smile were closed tightly together and fell in a grimace. Her eyes, which usually sparkled with the joy of her ninth year, were red and puffy. Her silky black hair had spilled out from its loose binds and hung somberly around her pale face. "Hai?" Tomomi responded.

The boy who had called her ran up and tugged on Tomomi's yukata, waiting for air to re-enter his lungs. When he had gathered a sufficient amount, he sputtered, "There are two houshi here. They want to be led to the castle."

Tomomi started at him severely for a few moments and then sighed. "A service will be held I suppose?"

"The one houshi said that he would like to set up a shrine to honor the dead, but he fears traveling the path this late. His companion suggested I ask you to lead them," the boy said, blankly. "I offered by help, but the younger one insisted that he wanted you."

Tomomi's frown grew. Was it possible that the houshi had been through here before? She couldn't be sure unless she saw them. There had been wandering houshi in their village before, of course, but she had rarely spoken with any of them. What could be their purpose in sending for her? Tomomi shrugged finally, deciding to pay it no heed and to accompany the boy back to where the houshi stood.

-

Sango looked up hopefully as the boy came running toward them. She stood to greet him, not caring whether or not Miroku had also noticed the boy's return. "Did you-" she stopped mid-sentence as Tomomi rounded the corner, choking on her words as tears stung in her eyes.

Miroku rose to his feet and then proceeded to drop a coin in the boy's hand and dismissed him. Miroku nodded to Tomomi and then motioned for both she and Sango to head for the tree line. Tomomi raised a suspicious eyebrow, but did not argue.

Once they had entered the protection of the tightly packed trees, the three turned to face one another.

"You asked for me," Tomomi said slowly, studying the face of the houshi whose countenance was not hidden beneath the brim of the hat.

"My name is Miroku," the prince said, offering his hand to the tiny girl in front of him. He didn't know anything about her besides her name and that she was the one person Sango felt she could trust in this village to keep her secret.

Tomomi did not take his hand, but rather moved her eyes decisively toward Sango. Somehow- Miroku could tell- Tomomi knew that Sango had a familiar aura. "And you are?"

"Oh, Tomomi!" Sango cried, throwing her hat aside. Her mahogany locks instantly fell from their bindings. She had tears on her cheeks, which glowed like two lost fireflies in the dying light of day. She stood like a statue, afire with the crimsons of a failing sunbeam, then rushed across the grove and threw her arms around a stunned Tomomi.

"Sa-Sango!" Tomomi gasped as the princess's arms encircled her. She steadied herself and then her own tears flowed into her dark orbs. She buried them shamefully in Sango's robes. "Sango-chanwe thought you had died"

Sango broke away and laughed, despite the dampness of her cheeks. "Me?" she raked a hand through her hair to keep it from clinging to her face. "I wouldn't die so easily!" Then, her tears began again and she threw her face into the crook of her best friend's neck.

Miroku observed the two girl's for a moment longer, and then stepped from the grove.

-

"And your grandfather?" Sango asked as they climbed the path to the castle. "How is he?" It was almost pitch now, so Sango had shed her cumbersome hat. She walked beside Tomomi, gossiping with her happily. To anyone else, the path would be next to impossible to navigate in the dark, and that would be in complete silence and concentration. But Sango and Tomomi had walked this path to see one another almost every day of their lives.

Miroku followed close behind, relying solely on his ears to find where the girls were. Every now and again, he inserted a comment into their conversations, especially ones that concerned him (which there were many of). Unfortunately, Tomomi mentioned to him that Kyoden's younger brother was named Miroku. Miroku just lowered his eyes.

Finally, after an age, they reached the summit of the hill. Miroku and Sango blanched, univocally.

The scattered, smoldering ruins glowed wraithlike in the moonlight of the tree-less summit. They towered above the onlookers' heads still, proud skeletons of their former glory. Around the base of the castle lay countless decaying mounds of clothing, armor, and charred, bloodied flesh. There was no vegetationthe only thing that broke the silence that death had decreed here were three small figures.

Sango slipped slowly to her knees, her hand covering her heart. Tomomi reached out and grabbed the princess's other hand in a consoling gesture. Miroku detached himself from the two women and stepped further into the monstrous display. Sango watched him until he had disappeared amongst the debris.

An eternity followed in which Sango knelt in the snow, shivering from something more than the chill of the night. Tomomi eventually sat beside her friend and laid her head on Sango's shoulder, still holding her hand. They said no words; there were none that would fit. They shed no tears; their sorrow was beyond those blessed droplets.

Then, just as the sky began to soften into a hazy, depressed gray, Miroku reappeared. His face was drawn and ashen.

Sango rose upon seeing him, trying to catch his eyes. But the two amethysts had lost their sparkle, and Miroku would not let his agony be revealed to her. Instead, he walked to her, took her hand from Tomomi, and began to led her the way he had come.

It was not long before they reached the room where Sango had last seen her father. The ceiling had caved in one part of the room, but the desk that marked the room as his study remainedmore or less. Her father was gone, and only a sprinkling of ashes remained to mark the place where he had fallen. Sango bowed to them, her lip trembling as she let her fingers graze the pale cinders. Miroku watched her for several moments, then pulled a small, ornate pouch from his robes. He put it in her palm, and then stood back as Sango, with shaking hands, gathered her father's ashes and ushered them into the container. Tomomi entered the room slowly, quietly, and moved to stand beside Miroku.

When Sango had taken all she could, the three of them stepped outside. In reverent silence, Miroku and Tomomi watched as Sango scattered her father's ashes to the wind.

As the last cinder was surrendered to the wind's gentle coaxing, Miroku once again took Sango's hand. Tomomi stayed behind. This time, they traveled deeper into the heart of the castle. When they had neared the back exit, Miroku stopped.

Sango, who was still standing behind him, grabbed the fabric on his sleeve. "Houshi-sama," she whispered.

Miroku looked back at her.

A gasp came from Sango as her gaze met his. Miroku quickly looked away, but he knew the damage was done. Sango stepped around him and looked down.

On the wooden floor, which still shining with the health they knew when they had been part of a grander estate, lay Kyoden. His face was white, his mouth open, and his black eyes still staring at where Sango had stood that night. Rot, if it had even begun, was not present on his visible features. In appearance, he was as perfect an artifact as he had been at death. A thin trickle of dried blood had meandered down his cheek.

Sango hiccupped with suppressed tears. Slowly, with unbalance, she bent beside her fallen love. "Kyoden" she whispered.

They remained that way until Sango reached up and closed Kyoden's eyes. She planted a kiss on his forehead, and then stood.

Miroku and Sango began walking away together, the hime just a step behind the self-appointed houshi. Suddenly, Sango turned and ran back the way they had come, calling behind her that she would return. Miroku did not follow, but rather lingered in miserable silence.

When Sango came to him several minutes later, her eyes were dry. In her hands, she clutched Kyoden's katana. Miroku's stomach turned as he laid eyes upon his brother's beloved blade. It caught the fragile light and shimmered ethereally, and the beauty of his brother's most prized possession tugged at his heart.

He blinked in surprise when Sango held it out to him.

She moved swiftly to explain, "It was Kyoden'sI-" she blushed, "I know you can't use it, but I want you to have it just the same. Somehow I knowit's what Kyoden would have wanted."

Miroku could have cried at those words. Instead, he blinked away the unwanted tears and took the katana firmly in his hands. The hilt felt warm in his palm. He risked a kind of half-smile, his broken heart swelling with contentedness. He looked at Sango and was astonished to find her beaming at him.

"It suites you," she breathed.

Miroku embraced her; she had no idea how much those words meant to him.

-

Outside, Tomomi had started a fire, trusting the aura of the ruins to ward off unwanted guests. She waited patiently for her friends, warming herself by the flickering embers, and watching the day's glow slowly surpass that of her fire's.

She did not see the shadow dart across the clearing, heading for the castle and the royal couple within.

Ichimu

Please review!


	6. The Awakening of Evil

Disclaimer: I do not/ will not ever own Inuyasha. Naraku, Sango, Miroku, Kohaku, Sango's father, Kazaana and Hiraikotsu are not mine. All other characters (for example: Kyoden and Tomomi) and plot developments are mine and shall not be stolen. Thank you.

Author's Note: Sorry this took so long to post, but you wouldn't believe the amount of schoolwork my teachers are piling on top of me! Especially my English teacher!! I had an English test Friday where we had to write seven essays (full essayswithout the book) in forty-two minutes!!!!! AH! It was a NIGHTMARE, honest.

Anyway, thank you all for your reviews! -

I really like this chapter, hope you do too! Well, here goes nothing!

Translations:

Tono: Japanese lord during Sengoku Jidai (for example: Sango's father or Miroku's father in this story mind you are both tono).

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Chapter 6, The Awakening of Evil

To her, it passed as a dream. The princess had been in her gardens when he appeared before her, dark, strong, and beautiful. From inside his robes, he had produced a tiny crystal vile from which an inky, intoxicating liquid had poured into her mouth. Them she had collapsed into his arms and slipped from the hold of her conscious mind.

When she awoke, she was in a quiet glade. Her clothes lay scattered across the clearing from where she rested. Beside her was a tiny crystal vile. Confused and unsure, she changed quickly, grabbed the vile and went home. In a short time, she had forgotten about the whole ordeal.

A week later, she and the wealthy prince, who she had been betrothed to at birth, were engaged. To her horror, she soon found that she was pregnant. Having never been with her fiancé, she realized to whom the child belonged and was terrified. In her desperation, she sought out a hermit, rumored to have power over the dark arts.

She went to the hermit with a heavy purse and pleaded with him to kill her unborn child. The man waited until she had finished and shook his head. He told her that he could not destroy the babe, for it had been chosen upon conception for a great destiny. So, the princess returned home with a heart of lead.

Many months passed and the cursed, unwanted babe grew within her. Her husband pretended that the baby was his to save her from dishonor. Finally, on a stormy night so cold that the snow came down in icicles, the woman called for her three maids. They rushed to her chamber and helped birth the sickly baby boy. His cries were heard above the howling of the ferocious wind, striking terror in those who perceived them.

As soon as she saw him, the woman shrieked in agony, for she saw that she had let loose a great evil unto the world. Regret and grief filled her heart. When her maids left her to nurse the son, she attempted to smother him. But when the maids returned several minutes later, they found that the princess had been murdered by the curse that protected the child.

The three ladies wrapped the babe in a blanket and brought him before his stepfather. Enraged by his wife's death, he sent the maids to the north, where a powerful miko lived, in hopes that she would purify the corrupt baby.

For months they traveled through wilderness until finally, in the heart of an ancient wood, they found the miko. She agreed to help them and, using the very same vile that had ensured the child's conception, sealed the baby away.

And the people connected to his birth moved on. But still within the castle grounds, there was a dark presence on the mind, a haunting of sorts. And on dark, stormy nights when the wind howled and the snow was like ice, the servants cuddled together by the fireside and whispered the tale of the cursed baby boythe tale of Naraku.

-

Sango and Miroku walked back in silence, side by side, no words between them. Both sets of eyes were dry now, but Miroku's still watched Sango for any signs of wooziness. She had been put through a lot that day, and he was unsure of the stableness of her condition. From the rubble, Sango had selected a wakizashi that had belonged to her little brother and her large boomerang: Hiraikotsu. The short sword was concealed beneath her houshi robes, while the boomerang, which could hardly be disguised, hung on her back. Also, she had salvaged a few minor supplies: a hidden wrist blade, shinobi stars, and poison powder.

Suddenly, a long cry of terror arose from the grounds. Sango stiffened. "That's Tomomi!" Sango cried, the color rushing from her horror-stricken face. She looked imploringly at Miroku and he broke off at a sprint, desperate to reach the princess's best friend. He wasn't sure whether Sango was following him or not, but it wasn't important. She was in a state of shock and would therefore be of little use if there was a skirmish waiting ahead.

He dashed out of the palace and into the ruins of the gardens. Tomomi stood in the center, shaking badly despite the roaring fire she had built. Her eyes were searching blindly as she spun around and her hand clutched the cloth over her heart. Her face was as white as Sango's had been.

"Tomomi, what's wrong?" he called to her

She did not answer, but her dark eyes darted to his face with a vacant expression. Two red lips parted and moved stupidly around her sobs.

Miroku grabbed her arm roughly and slapped her cheek. She gasped and looked at him. He was relieved to see that sanity had been restored within them. "What's wrong?" he asked again, gentler this time as he saw she was on the verge of tears. It was unnerving to see the typically cool, calm girl in such a state.

"There was something moving in the shadows" she whispered. Her voice was faint, as it she were trying to recover a dream. "He wasevil. I tried to stop him, but then I lost all sense of it." She paused and her eyes widened. "Where's Sango-chan?"

"Why?" Miroku questioned, intensity building in the air.

"He was heading toward the palace"

"Sango!" Miroku gasped, amethyst eyes flashing. Something had followed them here, despite his precaution. Or perhapscould it have been waiting here for them? He released Tomomi and ran back the way he had come at break-neck speed. Whatever it was, if it could do that to composed Tomomi, Miroku didn't want to think about what it could do to an already unstable Sango.

Sango's scream came a second later.

Miroku smashed through a half-incinerated wall and stumbled into the battle. He spied Sango lying across the large room from him, clutching her right shoulder while in a faint. Hovering above her stood the antagonist, his blade pointed to her heart. Miroku cursed fluently and the shadow unhurriedly rounded on the prince.

Amethyst met sapphire, and an electric hate flashed between the two.

Miroku rose to his full height and glared at his opponent who was dressed in the garb of a wealthy tono's son. Miroku prayed that Sango was not severely injured, and took a step toward the monster, drawing out Kyoden's katana. Again, he felt the warmth radiating slowly and soothingly from the hilt. "Who are you?" he asked coldly.

"Ah," seethed the creature, beginning to circle. Miroku moved easily into a half-crouch and circled as well. "You are the brother then?" He dashed forward, and Miroku easily deflected the blow.

Miroku did not answer; if the creature wanted to play mind games, Miroku didn't mind. He had been talked through a battle many a time before; this fight would be no different. He needed to concentrate on finding an opening.

"Silent, then? Just as well," he cooed. "A mute prince, eh? If you had a voice, you'd be almost the image of your brother."

The words caught Miroku off-guard, and he was too slow in deflecting the swordsman's next move; the cool steel grazed his sword arm and formed a minor cut. The wound hardly drew blood, but Miroku felt a flash of anger. He struggled to rein in his temper, knowing that to stay levelheaded was to be victorious. "Who are you?" he asked again. And how did he know Kyoden, but he let this go unspoken.

The monster smirked, displaying pointed eyeteeth. "My name is Naraku, though it will hardly be of any use to you, as you will be dead in a short time," he answered, not missing a beat.

Miroku ignored this and lunged. Naraku dodged and the circle began to turn the other way.

"Now that you know my name, I will have to know yours." When Miroku did not answer, Naraku's wicked grin was intensified. "Well now, despite your equivalent lack of sword-skill, you can clearly not be Kyoden-" He rolled aside and Miroku realized a second too late that he was heading for Sango.

Rage, white-hot, filled Miroku as he hollered in protest. He rushed, blade tip directed at the monster's heart. For a split second, Naraku faltered. Miroku seized the moment and jumped in front of Naraku's sword, letting the steel pass harmlessly into his thigh. Miroku stumbled and then turned to the beast. "Don't you touch her!" he snarled in feral anger.

Sango stirred behind him, lifted herself onto her elbows, and gasped as she took in the scene. Immediately, she began backing away from Naraku.

Something between a whimper and a hiss came from Naraku's throat. Two sapphires gleaned savagely from behind long tendrils of inky-colored hair. "Bastard" he growled, "I was so close" He swung his sword over his head and brought it down across Miroku's chest.

The uncalculated move tore Miroku's robes, but the skin underneath remained unharmed. Miroku frowned and lashed out skillfully. Naraku dodged, but a second too late, and the sword cut the bandage from Naraku's neck. It fell away, revealing the wound that Kyoden had caused before his death. With horror, Miroku realized how Naraku knew his brother-- the account of his death (as told by Sango) rushing back to him. "You're-!" he barked, pallor flowing into his cheeks. "You're the one who-who killed-"

"ENOUGH!" Naraku roared, grabbing his neck to hide the cut. "You will pay for my humiliation, brother of that wretch!"

Miroku stepped back, amethysts gone wide with shock, as a sparkling black aura surrounded Naraku. Foul syllables reached his ear and he recognized too late the evil chants of the black magic. The magic hit him full force, and a maniacal laughter arose from Naraku.

The magic caused agony unlike anything he had previously experienced. It consumed him like a hungry beast, tearing apart his insides. The black fingers of magic wrapped around him, squeezing air from his lungs. It was a fire, a fire that hated and destroyed. Miroku dropped to his knees, the magic roiling through him. He could feel it eating away at his spirit. Kyoden's sword tumbled from his nerveless fingers in his right hand, from which the pain radiated. Here, the fire came to settle, burning away the flesh slowly and deliberately, then allowing it to rejuvenate in a series of agonizing puncture-like tingling, then burning it away again. The magic became a sword then, and stabbed through Miroku's hand like acid, creating a clean precise hole. The fires seized hold of the skin around it and ripped it away from the hole, widening the curse-wound.

"Houshi-sama!" he heard Sango cry.

Something dark was growing inside his hand now, something vast and unimaginably evil. He could not fight it off. He was too weak to do so.

"Sango!" he whispered hoarsely. "I"

Then he was drifting, falling into another time and place. It was summer in the Takara kingdom, and he was a child of seven. He was playing with Kyoden in the gardens and had fallen while trying to climb a tree. He had bumped his head had and was sprawled out in the grass. Kyoden was above him in the tree, saying, Oh don't be such a baby! That fall was nothing; you're alright!

"Get up."

Miroku opened his eyes. Sango knelt close on his left, her eyes filled with tears and her cheeks wet with them. Her hands covered her mouth, muffling her words beyond comprehension; it had not been her who had ordered him to rise. Miroku's left hand found and held hers. He managed a thin smile before darkness covered his eyes and stole away his sight. There was a breeze that rushed past his face, and he momentarily wondered what a breeze was doing in these ruins. He sighed once, and was gone.

-

He awoke with a start as a damp and steaming cloth was placed on his burning forehead. It was morning, and a campfire was burning nearby. Miroku's eyes sought and found Sango's face immediately. She smiled gently at him and began to dab his forehead with the cloth. "It's alright, houshi-sama," she muttered. "We're safe now. Go back to sleep."

Sleep? Sleep! How outrageous! How could he sleep at a time like this, when so many questions were racing through his mind? Where had Naraku gone? How was Sango's shoulder? Was Tomomi safe? And the most prominent question in his mind, the one he was most afraid of the answer to: What had happened to him?

Sensing his inquisitiveness, Sango shook her head. "You have a fever; you need sleep. You can ask later."

Miroku began to protest, but his eyelids were already drooping. She was right of course, he could feel illness within him and it made him drowsy. His racing heart slowed and his pulse regulated itself. Before falling entirely to unconsciousness, he squeezed his right hand once. A pang shot through him and he gasped, but the ache had gone down considerably. Faintly, he noticed that he was clutching his prayer beads. I must have grabbed them before I passed out last time,' he thought distantly, not comprehending the significance of this instinct as of yet.

He sighed contentedly and fell back asleep.

- Ichimu

P.S. I love reviews!!!!!!


	7. Guilt and Duty

Disclaimer: Nope.

Author's Note: Well, I must say this was an unforeseen delay in the production of this story. I really hadn't planned to be away so long, but things turn up, you know? I had like five missing assignments in English (which I didn't know existed until they were late), an entire screenplay to write for US Survey, ideas for my novel, five books to read, a concussion, etc. All in all, October was not the best month of my life. But here's the next chapter, a little less than a month overdue. Sorry and I hope you enjoy!

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Chapter 7, Guilt and Duty

At dawn, dark storm clouds rolled in from the west, casting the earth in a murky, gray light. Mist crept along the ground, stirring ponderously as if some giant ladle was being pulled through it. No wind swept across the snow-strewn lawns of the wilderness. The animal life had nestled deep within their burrows, the bone-chilling cold preventing the habitual scurrying. The mist swallowed every flutter of bird wing or crunch of snow greedily, leaving the leafless forests encased in eerie silence.

Due to the night's events, Sango and Tomomi had been too worried to build a proper campfire. Instead, Tomomi had managed a kind of makeshift oven with a few rocks. The smoke dispersed itself amongst the mist, and the girls warmed their backs on the hot boulders. With their meager supplies, they had succeeded in boiling water, which was used exclusively for Miroku.

Sango nibbled the tips of her fingers absently while she eyed Miroku. He slept fitfully, tossing and turning, muttering dark words. She and Tomomi had slipped in and out of their own nightmares, some times awakened by the horrifying images or sometimes by Miroku's screams. In the case of the latter, they had moved quickly to silence the houshi. Now, Miroku was more or less still, though his blue lips still trembled with mute curses.

Whenever she was awake, Sango tried to connect her vague images of the fight. The monster had burst into the hall while she waited anxiously for Miroku and engaged her in combat. Caught of guard, Sango had been thrown into the main hall easily. There, she made a defensive stand. However, the demon had been too fast, and no sooner had the real fighting begun than she was down. While unconscious, she had heard vehement shouts and harsh syllables, but none of what was said had been clear to her. She knew they had been talking about Kyoden, not being sure of the context, she could deduce nothing.

The only thing that was clear to h er was Miroku's venomously spoken, "Don't you touch her!" Sango flushed at the memory, a mixture of surprise, horror, frustration, and even a bit of flattery. The tone of Miroku's voice had scared her thoughshe never would have imagined such an icy voice could come from a houshi! The rest was unclear to her, so blinded was she by emotion and dizziness. She had heard Naraku's oath: that Miroku would pay for his humiliation. But what were the following words? She couldn't clearly remember.

And then there was thethat strange knot that had formed in her stomach. She could recount those moments very clearly. A strange blackness veiling the room, dark, haunting words that made the hair on the back of her neck to stand on end.

Miroku had not screamed. Even as that terrible sensation that even Sango had felt enveloped him, he had not cried out. She had seen the torment and suffering reflected on his face though, and that was the image that truly frightened her. There were no words to describe the agony that contorted his face so. The black curse had taken somethingor left something.

Sango suddenly felt very cold, and she folded herself tighter, drawing her legs against her chest and pulling the blanket closer around her. She nestled deeper into the protective heat of the warmed boulder at her back.

Suddenly, there was the rain-like tumbling sound of prayer beads. Sango looked up quickly and two worn amethysts greeted her dark eyes. The face that contained them was ashen and tired, but the smile was reassuring. "Houshi-sama!" she greeted him with a sigh of relief.

Tomomi stirred on the other side of the fire, and rose quickly to her feet, brushing aside askew strands of dark hair. "Miroku-sama!" Tomomi exclaimed, a jovial surprise on her face. "How are you feeling?"

The smile didn't falter as Miroku answered, "Like shit."

Sango and Tomomi openly chuckled at the prince's bluntness. Sango blushed lightly at the colorful language, something Miroku couldn't help but chuckle at.

"What is it?" Miroku inquired, his smile growing at their warming sense of companionship.

Tomomi covered her mouth, unsuccessfully trying to stifle her giggles. She waved a hand on front of her face, and then looked at Sango. "You're right, he's not a very good houshi."

Miroku laughed too. The laughter quickly subsided though, and they were left in an affectionate and friendly silence.

Without warning, Sango turned away from Miroku, her brown eyes mournful. A wave of guilt shivered through her; what right had she to laugh with Miroku after what he had endured to protect her?

Miroku, however, did not understand her sadness. Was it a fault of his? Just when Miroku was going to inquire, Tomomi clapped her hands together decisively and a broad grin split her face. "Well then, we better get out of here before we catch our deaths of cold!"

Sango nodded to her friend with a smile and rose to her feet. Tomomi helped Miroku to his feet, flashing him an amiable smile. "We're going to take you to my grandfather. Sango said you were cursed or some such magic, anyway, my grandfather will know; he used to be a monk like yourself."

Miroku laughed edgily, but his thoughts were with Sango, who hung wraithlike on the edge of the clearing, her face downcast. The careless bearing was gone from her gait, and she kept glancing back at Miroku secretively. This newly opted behavior perplexed Miroku to no extent.

Then, a sudden fear gripped him. What if she had heard what Naraku had said? What if she knew that he was Kyoden's brother? Was the sadness in her step the sting of betrayal? He tried to swallow, but his fear had knotted inside his throat. "Sango?" he choked out when they were halfway down the hill.

Sango did not turn, but merely halted. Tomomi stopped as well, waiting for Sango to continue. She cast a warning glance to Miroku, who still hung around her shoulders. "Sango" Miroku repeated.

"I'm sorry!" she shrieked. The echo rippled out across the surrounding mountains as Sango turned to him, tears sparkling in her eyes. Her hands were clenched in fists at her sides.

Miroku was in a state of utter shock and surprise and blinked at her stupidly. He had been about to apologize. But if she were apologizing, did that mean that she didn't know?! He suppressed the urge to grin.

Sango looked down again, seeing the surprise in Miroku's face was too much. She wanted him to be angry with her, to yell at her. Then, it would be easy. Then, she could fight back. She knew how to fight. What she didn't know was how to apologize for someone protecting her. This was the second time it had been necessary for someone to save her from thatthat Naraku, and she hated it. The first time the man that had kindled the fire in her heart had been extinguished, this time the man who looked so much like him had been a hairbreadth's from death eternal grasp. She couldn't stand it. "You almost diedbecause of me," she whispered.

Miroku shook his head. He couldn't believe it! This is what she was upset about. "I promised to help you," he said, laughing, "even at the risk of my life. I gave you my word." He paused and said, "It was my duty." As soon as the words left his lips, he wished they hadn't.

The laughing stung Sango, but even more biting was the word 'duty'. She felt the heat of anger and shame well up in her chest, and she looked up at Miroku again, her beautiful face contorted in pain. "Don't laugh!" she commanded him. Miroku shut his jaw tight. Sango took a step back, her face softening into pure misery. "When I thought you died" she bit her lip, cutting off the barely coherent syllables.

Sango pivoted on her heel and began marching back down the road.

Flummoxed, Miroku and Tomomi followed silently after.

Outside the room where Miroku and her grandfather talked quietly, Tomomi rested her back against the door. A sigh escaped her lips as her dark eyes came to rest on the door to Sango's room. Inside, the forsaken princess lay in utter depression, and it was Tomomi's unmerited chore to pull her out of it. Still, the chipper girl had always managed to pull her friend out of a slump, she had to try at least one more time. Detaching herself from the wall, Tomomi slipped into Sango's room.

Sango looked up as Tomomi strutted across the room, observed her friend's nonchalant smile, and looked away with a dejected sigh. Tomomi's first attack had failed. She ran a hand through her mass of dark locks, and then plopped down on the futon beside Sango. She looked at the closed shoji that led to a balcony exposed to the twilight, and whispered, "He didn't mean it."

Sango blinked and looked up at Tomomi. She was unable to mask the surprise on her face. "Who didn't mean what?"

Tomomi smiled and punched the girl companionably on the shoulder. "You know. Everything he said back there. He didn't mean it." Her dark eyes twinkling, she looked at Sango.

Sango shook her head and looked away. "He wouldn't have said it if he didn't mean it. And it was his duty, nothing more. I was" She blushed furiously. "I was being ridiculous and selfish. I don't know what I was thinking."

Tomomi's smile grew. "Sango-chan," she said, chuckling. "You're the princess of this land, and yet I still think you're the simplest among us." She took her friend's hand and squeezed it tightly. "Anyway, forget it. Miroku-sama isn't the kind of person who would do something like that without knowing the consequences. And I'm sure he wouldn't throw himself into a fit if he didn't care for the person he was protecting."

Sango's blush deepened, but a smile pushed its way onto her lips. She nodded softly, and gave Tomomi a hug. "Thanks, Tomomi-chan."

Tomomi patted her back and then slipped from the embrace. She stood and walked across the room. That time, cheering Sango up had taken more than she had suspected. With a hand over her heart, she pushed open the shoji and let the frigid night air hit her face.

Sango grabbed her arms and rubbed them vigorously. "Tomomi-chan! Close the door! It's cold!"

Tomomi didn't respond. She just kept staring out across the dusky fields, her thoughts surrounding her in a protective shield, taking her away from the world. As Sango's hand came down upon her shoulder, Tomomi was suddenly ripped from her thoughts. She looked at the younger girl with a sweet smile, though she felt bitter inside.

"Tomomi-chan," Sango said softly. "What's the matter?"

"Nothing," Tomomi lied, lifting Sango's hand from her shoulder and holding it in hers. "I'll see you in the morning." She embraced her friend for a moment, then slipped from the room.

Sango moved to close the shoji, but paused as she spotted Miroku on the hillside, his figure stark against the darkening sky. His back was to her. In the swarthy mass overhead, stars winked into view. For a moment, Sango held her breath, so caught up in the scene was she. Miroku turned, not to her, but toward the plateau upon which Sango's palace and been built, and Sango caught a glimpse of immense grief in his face. He fingered the prayer beads secured around his palm thoughtfully. Something in Sango's chest tightened inexplicably, and she fumbled the fabric that hung across it.

For a moment, it occurred to her that she should go and comfort the houshi, but then Miroku did something strange. As she gazed upon his dark self, she reached into his robes and drew forth Kyoden's sword. It caught the moonbeams and scattered them across the lawn. Sango gasped as she watched the man move into a practiced stance, then swing the blade with terrible determination on his face. It sliced the air with a ripping noise, and Sango's jaw dropped. In that instant, he looked exactly like Kyoden.

She shivered and backed into the shadowed room, shutting the shoji behind her.

Ichimu

P.S. The review turnout for this story has ASTONISHED me so far, so please don't fail me now.


	8. Wind Tunnel

Disclaimer: I don't own Inuyasha so don't sue.

Author's Note: Well, this certainly did take awhile to get off the ground, but I believe it's worth it. It's worth it in that the first version of this chapter was like a very bad soap opera and nothing happened. This way, things make more sense and the story gets moving again.

Thank you all so much for your patience with me. I can't say I have a good excuse, except that I had one of the WORST cases of writer's block in the whole history of the condition. Thanks again!!

****

Chapter 8, Wind Tunnel

The night seemed never ending. Silence pounded in his deaf ears, consuming, devouring. He kept telling himself that he needed sleep, that he needed the strength it would provide tomorrow, but the more he told himself this, the less he believed it. What was sleep to a dead man, after all?

Miroku jerked awake. It was morning, he could tell by the thin streaks of light that slipped through the shoji. In a profound state of mind, Miroku hugged his knees to his chest and gazed off into the shadows that still lingered in one corner of his room. He was going to die. Just like Kyoden, he was going to be defeated by that monster, by that-- _Naraku_. As he thought the name, Miroku let his eyes fall to his hand, where his curse was nestled.

Last night, Miroku had talked with Tomomi's grandfather, Domeki for hours about the curse. Domeki's words still haunted Miroku: 'You must never take off those prayer beads, for when you do, everything around you will be taken within it, never to be seen again in this world.' Together, he and Miroku had named the curse Kazaana, the wind void.

They had also talked about finding a way to rid Miroku of the curse that would lead to his slow demise. Domeki had no knowledge in this area, all the curses he had ever cured had been far simpler than this one. He suggested to Miroku that he visit a powerful miko who lived in the northland. Yet the youkai-riddled northland was one of the last places on earth that Miroku wanted to travel into.

The door slid open, and Miroku was ripped from his thoughts. He smiled shakily as Tomomi entered the room and took a seat nearby. She was dressed simply, but Miroku still had to struggle to ignore how nicely her clothes fit around her curvy figure. "Ohayo gozaimasu," Tomomi muttered in greeting.

"Ohayo," Miroku answered.

"O-jii-sama said that you're leaving," Tomomi said somewhat awkwardly.

"Domeki-sama told the truth."

"Then," started Tomomi, looking up at him, "are you leaving without Sango-chan?"

Miroku sighed. This was a question he had been asking himself all night. It was true that he had promised to help Sango avenge her family, but could he bring himself to take her into the heart of the dangerous northland? He was in serious conflict with himself over the issue. "I think that I should."

"Why!?" Tomomi asked, bewildered.

"Because" Miroku said in a hushed voice, "Sango's already been through enough pain. I don't want to cause her any more."

Tomomi snorted at this. "Leaving her behind isn't going to lessen Sango-chan's pain. I of all people should know that."

Just then, there was a noise outside. Tomomi looked around at the door and gave a small sigh. "Looks like Sango-chan is up." She looked back at Miroku and started to her feet. "I should go get her some tea." She walked over to the door and paused a minute in the doorway. "You know how royalty can be in the morning," she added as an after thought before disappearing into the hall.

Miroku frowned at Tomomi's last comment. She was too smart, he decided. It was all right, though, since he was leaving anyway. Miroku dragged himself out of his futon, rolled it up, and changed into an extra set of houshi robes that Scarlet had provided. He snorted as he secured the violet sash; if he kept going through robes like this, he was going to have to ask Domeki for some new sets.

Miroku heard the door open behind him. "Ah, Tomomi-san--" He turned, and found himself looking into the angry chocolate-colored eyes of Sango. "Sango!" he said, jumping a bit in surprise.

"Where are you going, houshi-sama?" Sango asked. Miroku noticed she was also wearing a fresh robe.

Miroku looked away. "So, Tomomi-san told you."

"Tomomi didn't have to tell me anything." She frowned and paced across the room to stand in front of him. Her eyes were like two spears of ice as they tore through him. "You think I'm pretty stupid don't you?"

"Sango"

"Stop!" Sango thundered. Miroku stopped. They stood in silence for a few minutes, and then Sango dropped her face to the ground. In a quieter voice she said, "You promised you would help me to avenge my family."

"I know I-" Miroku started apologetically.

"Don't-!" Her eyes lifted again, and her face was flushed with anger. "Don't apologize. The last thing I want to hear right now is an apology from you."

Somehow, Miroku felt like Sango was a three-year-old lecturing him. "Sango, you're being irrational. I know what I said, but I can't stick to that promise. Things have changed."

Sango's eyebrows lowered and her face grew fierce. "Then you're a liar," she said in a low, dangerous voice. "You're a dirty, pig-headed liar."

"I-"

"You gave me your word," she continued, unfazed.

"Sango-"

"No, I won't-"

"LISTEN TO ME!" Miroku roared.

The princess staggered in surprise, her eyebrows rocketing up past her hairline. It was the first time in her life that anyone of a lower class had used that tone of voice with her. In fact, it was the first time _anyone _had _dared _talk to her that way. Her cheeks flushed, but she was silenced, for the moment.

Miroku sighed exasperatedly and ran a hand through his hair. He took deep breaths as he tried to calm his raging temper. It wasn't often that he lost it, especially with a woman. "Sango," he said evenly. The princess would not look at him. "Sango." His voice was more commanding now, and slowly, the girl raised her eyes to his.

Miroku cupped his lips and blew out a thing stream of air, trying to keep his cool. Then, he whispered, "There's a curse on my hand, Sango." The princess's face remained blank, but he could see guilt seeping into her eyes. "The only way I can hope to rid myself of it is to travel to the northland and look for a miko. Otherwise I'll-" He stopped himself, shook his head, and turned his back to her. "I have to go, Sango, and I have to go alone."

He jumped as he felt a cool palm slip into his. He spun around and met Sango's intense gaze. "Why alone?" she muttered. A little smile darted across her lips. "After all, I was the one who did this to you."

The self-appointed houshi looked down and saw that Sango was holding the hand with the Kazaana hidden inside. He shook his head in protest, but Sango silenced him by grabbing the prayer beads on his hand.

"Show it to me," she said. "Show me what I've done."

"I think that's a bad idea, Sango," Miroku said in warning.

"Please," she breathed humbly. Without protest from Miroku, Sango took his hand into her two small ones and slipped the prayer beads off. The purple cloth gathered there parted, and the two royal teens looked down in awe.

A moment later, a small black hole emerged in the center of Miroku's palm. A tiny, twister-like wraith rose from the blackness. Sango gave a little cry of surprise as she felt the vortex's pull, and she quickly wrapped the prayer beads back around Miroku's hand, sealing the Kazaana once again.

When Miroku summoned the strength, he looked over at Sango. He gasped when he saw the guilt in her eyes. "Sango," he murmured, touching her shoulder. The princess shied away. "Sango, this is _not _your fault."

"Of course it is," she sniffled. "Everything is my fault. It's my fault my family is dead, and that Kyoden died trying to protect me. It's my fault I wasn't strong enough to fight the shadows. It's my fault that you're here, and it's my fault that you have that- that- _thing _on your hand."

"No!" Miroku said forcibly, quickly swiping a tear from her cheek. "I came with you of my own accord. I fought that youkai because I wanted to."

Sango straightened her back, trying to force down her tears bravely. "But you said-"

"I _know_ what I said!" Miroku shouted. He hit himself on the forehead before continuing. "I said a terrible thing." He shook his head and added, "It was wrong of me to do that to you. I'm sorry. The reason I fought that youkai was because I- I wanted to- no, because I _needed _to. It's my own damn fault that this happened."

They stood in silence for a long time after that. Then, Sango said, "Can I still come with you?"

Miroku sighed and answered, "It's going to be dangerous."

"Ha!" Sango shrugged her shoulders and smiled. Miroku saw that all signs of her previous tears were gone. "I laugh at danger." She placed her hands on her hips and stuck out her chest. "Besides, we might find some leads on where that youkai has gotten off to. It's about time I exact some revenge on him." She tossed her mahogany hair over her shoulder and strutted out of the room.

Miroku watched her go in bewildered amazement. Then, he turned away and began to pack.

--

By late morning, they were packed and ready to go. Tomomi and Domeki met them at the front gate to bid their good byes. Tomomi and Sango embraced before Tomomi gave them extra provisions. With a wave and a wink to Miroku, Tomomi turned and headed back to the house. Domeki nodded respectfully to Sango, "Return to us soon, my hime."

"I plan to," Sango said, before turning away to wait for Miroku outside the gate.

Domeki looked over at Miroku as the prince gazed after Sango. He chuckled softly before saying in a serious voice, "Miroku-san."

Miroku turned to the old monk.

"Bring our hime back to us." Domeki reached into his gi, withdrew something, and pressed it into Miroku's palm. Miroku looked down to see a small jeweled bracelet. "A powerful charm," Domeki explained. "Hime-sama won't wear it if I give it to her, but maybe she'll wear it if it comes from you."

Miroku nodded gratefully. "You've done so much for us, and I am undeserving. If there is any way I can repay you-"

"Just take care of Sango," Domeki whispered. He leaned in close, and with gray eyes pleading, said, "Don't let her be consumed by her want for revenge, Miroku-san." Then, the old man turned and vanished into the house, leaving a very puzzled Miroku standing at the gate.

- Ichimu


	9. What Bloodshed Brings

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the Inuyasha characters included in this story (which is basically only Sango, Miroku, and Naraku so far), but I _do _own all of my original characters (i.e. Kyoden, Miroku's mom and dad, Sango's dad, Tomomi, Scarlet, and Ginmaru)

Author's Note: GOMEN! (Sorry) I really didn't mean for this to take so long. In fact, I have it all written up for the longest time, I just never felt like/ got the chance to update it. But now I am! Yay! Happiness all around!

Anyhoot, we have yet another original character appearing in this chapter, one that has quickly become a personal favorite (yet no one can replace Scarlet's place in my heart). This chapter is a bit messy as far as grammar (I haven't checked it, I'm sorry! It's too much work for me now!!) but I really like the message of it. I'm sorry for the grotesque scenes; I used as little imagery as possible while trying to make sure it was still comprehendible.

Enough ranting. Time for the chapter!

Translations:

Chiksou (chick-soh): Shit

Ginmaru (gin-mah-roo strong 'g' sound): I thought it would be fun to translate this for you. 'Gin' is the Japanese word for silver, and 'maru' is a common ending for boys' names in Japan. Haha, I have a lot of color-oriented names. :-)

Ursai (oor-sigh): Shut up

Yare yare (yah-reh yah-reh): Well, well

__

Chapter 9, What Bloodshed Brings

By afternoon, storm clouds were settling in, blanketing the sky in thick layer of gray swirling mass. On the ground, the day had turned gloomy with a strong wind. Together, Sango and Miroku trudged down the road, Miroku watching the worsening weather carefully.

"Sango," he said at length. "I think there's going to be a snowstorm."

Sango looked up at him as if he were the biggest idiot in the whole world. "You think?" she said smartly.

"We should seek shelter from the blizzard soon," Miroku continued, his worry unfazed.

"No, we should keep going," Sango argued. "There's a village just north of here."

"I don't think that's a good idea," Miroku said. "It looks like the sky is ready to explode with snow any minute."

"And it would be better to wait it out in a comfortable village. Or would you rather spend it in the shelter-less woods?" Sango barked, hugging her arms to her sides. "Now, come on!"

Sighing in defeat, Miroku followed after.

It had begun to snow lightly when they reached a knoll. "Just over this hill," Sango said with a smile. She rubbed her hands together briskly, the thought of a warm fire emerging in her mind, and ran up the slope.

At the top of the hill, she froze.

Even from where he stood- over fifteen yards away- Miroku could see how rigid Sango's posture had become. He could feel the distress attacking her body. Concern gripped him and he sprinted up behind her, grabbing her shoulders. "Sango!" he called into her ear.

The girl remained facing forward, her countenance horror-stricken. Miroku's stomach churned nastily, and her slowly raised his eyes to look out across the scene before him. "Oh, Buddha" he whispered hoarsely.

The road stretched out before them, rising over the bump of the hill to the village beyond. Trees flanked the road on either side, their leafless boughs joining overhead to form a long archway. From these trees, tens of bodies had been strung up and were swaying gently in the wind, their bloodied details blatant in the gray light.

Sango fell to her knees, clutching her stomach so that her knuckles turned white. Her dark eyes were wide and her body was trembling. Before she could regain control of herself, she emptied her stomach onto the new fallen snow. Miroku was too overwhelmed by emotion to comfort her. Several long and painful moments ticked by, holding the two royal children dumbstruck and repulsed. Sango made a shaky attempt to get back on her feet. Miroku, looking as if he had just been awakened from a staggering nightmare, moved to help her. They stood supporting one another in the road, staring out across the carnage.

"Houshi-sama" Sango breathed. Her voice was mangled by unfulfilled sobs. "Who would have done this- to a whole village?" She kept her eyes to the ground as she spoke, unable to endure the terrible sight any longer.

Miroku didn't have an answer. As he looked out over the victims of the beastly genocide, he couldn't describe his absolute horror. The bodies that dangled listlessly from the branches had no prejudices; they belonged to all: the men, women, the elderly, and children.

"Yare yare, what have we here?" a voice cooed mockingly. Miroku's narrowed eyes darted to a nearby tree, from where the sound had come. Before him, the tree seemed to morph. He looked on questioningly, and waited as a silver-scaled lizard-like youkai detached himself from the bark. When the youkai was free, he opened two slit-like silver eyes and observed the prince and princess with peaked interest. "Enjoying the view, are we, houshi?"

A tide wave of rage crashed over Sango's body with staggering force. She unsheathed her wakizashi and held her Hiraikotsu up threateningly. "Are you the one who did this?" she demanded heatedly.

"Me?" the youkai said, looking genuinely surprise. A forked tongue darted out from behind his lips and tasted the air. "I'm flattered that you would suggest it. I could not perform a deed of this magnitude in such a short time. The greatness of it is above me."

With a cry of rage, Sango threw herself towards the youkai. Miroku's arm whipped out and caught hers just in time, drawing her back into the safety of his grasp. "Sango, he's just trying to get you fired up!" he warned her.

Sango's head lowered, but her heaving breaths and raging pulse did not quiet. Then, in a voice so icy that the snow hitting Miroku's face seemed warm, Sango hissed, "Unhand me, _peasant_."

Miroku released her with a gasp of utter shock.

The princess, her face hot with unbridled fury, took a step toward the silvery youkai. "Know this, monster: my name is Kawate Sango, and I shall destroy you."

"My name is Ginmaru," the youkai purred, his tongue coming forth from behind his upturned lips. "Yare yare, I suppose it would not good to tell you again that I could accomplish no such task as this."

"Ursai!" Sango roared, pulling back her arm. With a great heave, she sent Hiraikotsu spinning toward the youkai with break-neck speed. Moving like quicksilver, Ginmaru's mid-drift morphed into the shape of an arched bow, and Hiraikotsu went past without committing any injury.

Sango and Miroku barked in surprise at this inhuman ability. 'I see,' Miroku thought, tightening his hold on his shakujou. 'He can twist and bend his body into any shape he chooses!'

Ginmaru had not intention of giving the two royal teens a chance to gape. He was already making his move, rushing toward Sango with the speed of lightening. Sango gasped and raised her wakizashi defensively. Ginmaru sniggered and as he collided with Sango, he knocked the wakizashi for her hands, sending it spinning off into the woods.

Then, Ginmaru was on top of Sango. The princess began to struggle immediately, and the two of them rolled together in the snow, the youkai's claws inflicting scratches and bruises all over Sango's flesh. Miroku stood by in horrified amazement, the wild thrashing of the two combatants keeping him from rushing to Sango's aid.

Then, Sango managed to get her knee out from under the youkai's weight, and brought it hard into his stomach. Ginmaru moaned in agony and leapt away, clutching his stomach. Sango struggled quickly to her feet, wiping a stream of blood from her chin. Both of them glared at one another for a few moments, and then Sango was moving.

Her leg whipped out and around her body, cutting the air with speed. Ginmaru responded instinctively, blocking her kick with the back of his forearm. Quickly, he brought up one of his powerful legs, directing his claw-tipped toes at Sango's stomach. The girl twisted out of the way just in time, and the steely claws ripped the skin along her forearm. She bit her lip against the pain and jumped away.

"Sango!" Miroku shouted in sudden warning as he noted something under Sango's feet. He realized in horror that Ginmaru had flattened his tail while Sango and he had been kicking out at one another and had sent his tail along the ground. Now, it was directly under Sango's feet, ready to attack the unaware girl. Without thinking, Miroku threw himself at her.

Sango, still off-balance from jumping back, didn't see Miroku until she was flying backwards, being carried from the battlefield in the warm embrace of the prince. "Houshi-sama" she breathed, uncertainty in her voice.

They hit the ground and entered a roll, Miroku arms shielding Sango from the ground. Together, they made impact with the base of a tree, knocking a large amount of snow free from the boughs and onto them.

Ginmaru watched with utmost amusement as the two broke free from the snow.

"Houshi-sama!" Sango shrieked, her cheeks bright red. "What were you thinking?! I had him!" She pointed to where she had been standing, and Miroku's eyes found the Hiraikotsu was not two feet away from her previous location.

Ginmaru chuckled at the pair. "Yare yare!" he exclaimed. "Sango-san, I hate to rain on your royal procession of unrestrained pride, but houshi-sama was saving you from one of my more underhanded attacks. If not for him, I would have plummeted my tail through your stomach."

Sango blinked in astonishment and looked over at Miroku. She was amazed to find he had already moved from his spot next to her in the pile of snow. Instead, he was crossing the road to stand in front of Ginmaru.

"Houshi-sama!" Sango called.

Miroku turned to her, his face expressionless.

"What are you doing?!" she demanded indignantly. "_I'm _the one who's going to kill him!"

Miroku's amethyst eyes suddenly filled with limitless sorrow. Domeki's words were finally beginning to make sense to him. He turned from her, looking around at the faces of the countless hanging forms. "Hasn't there been enough bloodshed?" Sango gasped, her eyes widening in surprise.

'"Don't let her be consumed by her want for revenge, Miroku-san.'"

Miroku turned back to her. She was astonished and somehow humbled by the sad smile on his face. "If it _is_ bloodshed that you would wish for, Sango allow _me_ to shed it." When he spoke, there was a hint of bitterness in his voice. Miroku took a deep breath before whispering, "Bloodshed only brings pain, no matter the circumstances." He shook his head slowly, and then placed his back to her. Driving his shakujou into the road firmly, Miroku reached to his side and brought out Kyoden's katana.

Ginmaru's eyes grew, and then a smug look crossed his face. "You intend to kill me with _that_ katana?" he asked lightly. His eyes shifted to Miroku's, and a devilish smile split his narrow face. "It is far too good for the likes of you, houshi."

Miroku did not answer.

Ginmaru's tail flickered in mild irritation. "So you are to be my opponent now?"

"Yes."

"I was waiting here with orders to destroy the princess of this land," Ginmaru said evenly.

A small gasp came from behind Miroku, but the prince kept his face blank but for a courteous smile. "Well, would you put aside that ambition until you have killed me? I have bound myself to protect Sango hime on her quest." He brought his sword up. "And my Buddha, I _will_."

Ginmaru's tongue flickered out mirthfully. "Yare yare, what a troublesome pair! I suppose the decision is yours, houshi. I will acknowledge your convictions and I give you my word as a servant to my master that I will not lay so much as a finger on the princess until you destroyed."

"Arigato," Miroku muttered. He fell easily into circling, and Ginmaru moved with him. He kept his eyes trained on the youkai's, waiting for any sudden spark that would give away Ginmaru's intentions.

"I regret to tell you that I do not have much time to play around with you, houshi," Ginmaru admitted regretfully. "I promised my master that I would kill Sango-san, and I must do so. Therefore, I shall not hold back with you as I did with the girl."

'He was holding back?!' Sango gasped from her position. 'Chiksou!' He face flushed with anger and humiliation. 'He was holding back and yet I could hardly keep up with his movements! Chiksou, chiksou, chiksou!!'

A smirk darkened Miroku's face. "Good. In that case, I won't hold back either!"

Then, they began. Both at once --with a liquid grace and precision Sango had never witnessed before-- detached themselves from their circle and leant into the middle. She hadn't even finished her short gasp before their bodies met, Miroku's katana meeting Ginmaru's arm, which he had fashioned into a steel katana.

"So," Miroku said with a boyish grin, "you can change the substance of your body as well?"

"Only certain parts," Ginmaru admitted.

The two parted and leapt backwards. No sooner had their feet touched the ground than they were diving toward one another again. They were so fast that to Sango, they appeared merely as blurs. Just then, Miroku pulled up short, turning out of the headlong dive. Sango blink in surprise, then Ginmaru stopped as well, his face contorted with pain. Sango followed Miroku's eyes to where he had thrown Kyoden's katana into the road. A second look showed her that Ginmaru's tail, flattened against the road, was trapped under the blade. She saw blood beginning to bubble up around the wound.

"Yare yare," Ginmaru said softly. "I seem to have gotten myself into quite a predicament. I can't stretch my tail over ten feet, you know." He kept his tone gentlemanly, but Sango could see the rage building up behind his eyes. "But this puts you at a lose as well, houshi."

Miroku looked over at Ginmaru's face for an explanation.

"As soon as you take that sword out, I will be able to move my tail again, but if you don't take it out, you'll be weaponless."

"There," Miroku started, his face lighting up with a grin, "is where you're mistaken, Ginmaru-san." His grin broadened as he reached out and pulled his shakujou out of the road. "After all, I can fight with this shakujou just as easily as I can with that sword."

"Ah," Ginmaru breathed, smiling. "Well then, I guess it's too early to call it quits then."

"Indeed," Miroku said.

Ichimu


	10. Curtained Conclusions

Disclaimer: There are many things I don't own. Billy Boyd is one of them. Dominic Monaghan is another. And Inuyasha is yet one more thing to add to that list. sigh

Author's Note: Sorry!! SORRY!

From now on, I'm going to update regularly. Every other Monday sound good to you guys? That way, I'll have two whole weekends in which to plan for updates.

I know this is really obnoxious and you must hate me for it, but I'm trying really.

On a lighter note, my friends threw me a surprise sweet sixteen this weekend! . Yay me! lol.

This chapter is short but I still like it. More soon, I PROMISE!

You know, I never thought this story would be more than five chapters. Hahaha.

Translations:

Konbanwa (kohn-bahn-wah): Good Evening

__

Chapter 10, Curtained Conclusions

Sango did not dare draw breath.

The snow fell heavily now, blanketing the surrounding world like a gauzy curtain. It was tossed and turned like a rodeo rider by the fierce winds. The air must have been bitingly cold, but Sango took no notice of it; her awe-filled eyes were trained to the battle unfolding before her. It had been going on for far too long now. In the back of her mind, Sango was beginning to realize that she might freeze to death before a conclusion was reached, but for the moment, anxiety allowed her to remain ignorant of her welfare.

Despite the obvious hindrance the weather created for her, Sango had tuned herself in to the battle. Every one of her senses was on edge, waiting, listening, and watching for anything that moved through the milky white haze. Now and again, a wraith-like figure would emerge from the curtain of snow, but it would soon disappear again. The clash of steel upon steel ripped through the air at often yet irregular intervals. Sango could assume that both combatants were having trouble finding one another, and that the battle was beginning to take a toll on each.

"Please" she whispered. "Please stop soon." The wind rushed past her, and mercilessly swallowed her plea.

--

Somewhere within the onslaught of white, Miroku stood tense and waiting. The hand that encompassed his shakujou twitched anxiously as his amethyst eyes studied his surroundings. "Where are you?!" he roared over the greedy wind, whirling around and raising his shakujou. The silver youkai had disappeared again, and Miroku was far too weary to seek him out.

"No need to shout, houshi," cooed a voice from behind, "I'm right here."

Miroku pivoted, but when he looked, there was no one there. He frowned and brought his shakujou into a defensive position.

Just then, Ginmaru burst from the curtain of snow, raising his steel arm over his head. Miroku leapt up to meet him, and as they converged, a shower of sparks exploded from their weapons. Miroku leapt away, and made a desperate swipe for Ginmaru's mid-drift. The youkai sniggered and twisted his body out of the way. Then, he lashed out with his clawed foot. Miroku saw the attack too late, and was sent hurtling back into the white haze.

His back hit the frozen road hard and all the air rushed from his lungs. He was momentarily stunned.

Before he could compose himself, Ginmaru slithered into his field of vision, smirking hideously. "Konbanwa, houshi," he said mockingly. Then, he prepared his blade arm, ready to bring the weapon down through Miroku's stomach.

The prince gasped and, just before the blade struck him, rolled out of the way. He cringed visibly as his strength had not yet fully returned. In that instant, Ginmaru changed the course of his arm, and sent the blade ripping through the vulnerable flesh of Miroku's back.

--

The scream that reached her ears caused her blood to run cold.

"Houshi-sama!" Sango cried, despair clutching her heart. Without a thought of her safety, Sango struggled to her feet and raced off in the direction of the scream.

--

Ginmaru looked up as a shadowy figure emerged through the snow. "Ah, Sango-san," he in a gentlemanly tone, "so good of you to join us. I was worried about having to find you in all this snow."

Deep satisfaction bubbled up inside him as the princess grew nearer and spotted the fallen prince. Horror filled her delicate face. "Houshi-sama," she breathed. Her tone was imploring. There was no answer from the stricken man. "Houshi-sama?"

"He won't answer you," Ginmaru said decisively, rubbing his bloodstained arm in the snow. "Can't you tell a dead man when you see one?" 'Certainly,' he thought, 'let her believe he is dead. It will make my business here so much easier. Indeed, I myself have yet to check if the man is truly deceased.'

He looked on with a gloating smile as Sango crumbled to her knees and extended her shaking hand to brush across Miroku's face. Somehow, seeing her in such a state of woe, he almost felt sorry for her.

'On second thought, maybe not,' he decided with a grin.

--

There was blackness all around him and it was bitterly cold. He knew where he was --he knew he was still in the road-- but he could not find the strength to open his eyes. He heard Ginmaru's gleeful laughter, but the wound on his back kept him from punching the bastard's head off. He could feel the shakujou, resting limply in his palm, but he couldn't wrap his fingers around it. It was like his mind was alive, yet his body had died.

Sango's approach came somewhat of a surprise to him, but he didn't need to hear Ginmaru's greeting to know it was she who had come. He heard her calling his name, and wanted so badly to answer, to assure her that everything would be all right, but he could not. He could only lie in the snow like a corpse, listening and feeling life go on around him.

Rage bite coldly at his innards as Ginmaru boasted of killing him. He most certainly was not dead, he decided. Or maybehe was? How could he be sure? Maybe this was what it was like to die. Maybe in death, your spirit inhabited an empty husk until it rotted away. He shivered mentally. Such a thought was too gruesome and pessimistic to bear.

Something heavy landed in the snow beside him. He struggled to open his eyes, to see what it was. And then, he heard a stifled sob.

'Sango?' he whispered into the blackness around him.

A gentle touch traced along his jawbone. It was _warm_, so warm. He wished so badly that it would stay just where it was.

--

Sango gasped as a strong hand encompassed hers. She blinked, clearing her eyes of tears, and looked down. It wasMiroku's hand! She gasped again and looked once more into the man's face. Two smiling amethyst orbs greeted her dark eyes. "Houshi-sama," she breathed, this time, her tone was filled with wonder and delight. "You're alive!"

"What?!" Ginmaru exploded, stepping closer, which he would later come to acknowledge as his single mistake.

Now fully awake, Miroku tightened his hold on the shakujou and twisted his body around. With the help of the weapon, he knocked Ginmaru clear of his feet. The lizard youkai hissed and hit the ground with a loud thud. With a little help from Sango, Miroku struggled to his feet. He stepped over to Ginmaru, and then crouched down beside him. He pressed the shakujou threateningly against his windpipe.

"Now," he said, devilishly. "You have some explaining to do."

Ginmaru smiled. "Well then, what would you like to know?"

"Who are you working for?!" Miroku demanded.

"Easy: Naraku," Ginmaru said with a shrug.

Sango gasped. "Naraku?!" she echoed, horror wracking her frame.

Miroku turned and looked at the girl in confusion. She had been unconscious when Naraku had announced his name; how could she identify with it? "The monster who attacked us in the ruins," he prompted her.

Sango focused on him now, her face pale with bewilderment. "What?! _He _was the one who attacked us?"

" Yare, yare!" Ginmaru laughed wickedly. "You know him, Sango-san?"

Sango bit her lip and said nothing.

Miroku shook his head and turned back to Ginmaru. There was a look of deep satisfaction on the lizard youkai's face. Out of the corner of his eye, Miroku spotted Kyoden's sword. It still anchored Ginmaru's tail to the road. "Why couldn't you take the sword out?" he asked, more to himself.

The smile that tugged at the corners of Ginmaru's lips was devilish and cool. "Another time, houshi, another time." With that, he vanished. Miroku, who had been leaning on the youkai, toppled forward and received a mouthful of snow.


	11. Blood Seal

Disclaimer: I own the plot, the title, Scarlet, Ginmaru, Takara Kyoden, Takara Bairei, Kawate Kinuko, Takara Kahori, Asahi Mayuko, and Takara Tansho. I don't own Sango, Miroku, Naraku, or any other Inuyasha characters and/or themes. Please do not sue. Thank you.

Author's Note: Please read this note. That's why it's here.

I'd like to talk to everyone about reviews. First of, I'd like to make a note that this site does not require people to review. To some, that's a great thing, to others, not.

Now, I'd like to talk about reviews on a more personal level. I think everyone here understands why reviews are great, but allow me to fabricate the details. While I know most authors like to flaunt their reviews (myself not excluded), they have a better, stronger purpose, and they're the reason why was created. Reviews are little windows through which the author can see what their reader really wants. I need those windows, and I don't get enough of them. Without feedback, I'm at a loss.

Furthermore, I'd like you all to note that my Inuyasha stories are not my masterpieces. They are my "works". I slave over them and fine-tune things, but not in the same way I slave over my personal stories that I someday hope to get published. That's why I need reviews, so that I can work on my works. Like I've said before, reviews are a great way for authors and readers to communicate, they let the author know what their readers like, and what they think could be changed.

I know my writing is not perfect. I don't pretend that it is. That's why I need reviews to help motivate me and to instruct me. I need to know what works and what doesn't and while I won't change my story completely, I take each and every review into account. I consider each one carefully, and sometimes email the reviewer to ask them to elaborate upon their point a little more.

Ok. Time to stop talking about reviews. For the schedule, I've decided to more or less trash it. I'll try to update every week, but I can make no promises. The reason I'm getting rid of the schedule, you ask? Well, because I hate schedules, quite frankly. And also because new complications have sprung up with my Monday scheduling.

Right now. Reading time. Thanks for listening to my review rant.

__

Chapter 11, Blood Seal

They entered the village slowly, Sango walking quietly behind. The air was frigid and the night dark. All they could hear was the roar of the wind as it shoved snow in their faces. They walked blind, their eyes half-closed against the offensive gusts. Eventually, Miroku ran into a wall and they skirted around it until they found a door. The air inside the hut was still slightly warm, and the walls kept out the wind and snow. Beside the fire pit, a small meal was laid out, hardly three hours old and ready to be cooked. While Miroku prepared dinner, Sango readied two futons and several blankets for them. Then, they sat down across each other.

"I'm sorry," Sango said in the middle of the silent meal.

Miroku looked up in surprise, and found the princess was glaring at her food, her cheeks bright red. "For what?" he asked.

"For-for what I said before," Sango stuttered, her cheeks burning. "I didn't mean it. I was just- just so angry!"

Miroku's mind flashed back to before the fight, when Sango had shouted coldly at him, calling him a peasant. He smiled slightly, grateful for the apology. "You're forgiven," he said softly, ushering another helping of rice into his bowl.

She winced, but Miroku missed it.

"How's your back?" she asked softly.

Miroku didn't answer right away. He couldn't deny that his back was troubling him immensely. He was worried about the wound, and upset that he would have to ask Sango to bind it for him. "I think it will have to be bandaged after dinner."

Sango nodded. "I figured as much."

They carried on in silence for a time, both consumed by their own thoughts, both trying to push the horrible images of the massacre out of their minds. Eventually, Miroku spoke, his voice gentle and even-toned. "Do you know who Naraku is, Sango?"

The hand Sango had kept in her lap suddenly closed in a fist around her robes. She did not answer, and kept her eyes on her food.

"If you _do_ know anything, it would help us considerably in our fight against him," Miroku pointed out, also keeping his eyes on his food.

There was a long silence, and just when Miroku was about to give up, Sango spoke. "As a young child, I often had trouble sleeping."

Miroku creased his brow and looked up at the princess.

Sango's face was reflective and her thoughts illegible. "I would sneak down to the servants' quarters and stand outside the door. They would tell stories at night and I loved listening to them." A small smile tugged momentarily at her lips. "My favorite story was about my father and mother and the little boy named Naraku."

Miroku leaned in to hear her hoarse words over the crackling of the fire.

She shook her head. "It was a ghost story, and terrible story that sent shivers up my spine, but I loved it all the same. I was never sure if it was true, now I know it is." She scoffed and her expression changed to show concern. "As the story goes, my father was engaged to a young woman named Tansho. But a week earlier, a youkai had appeared before her. The youkai had used a strong drug to desensitize her, and then he had raped her. My father, without this knowledge, married her. Tansho tried time and again to rid herself of the baby, but nothing worked." Miroku frowned, unable to fathom the dishonor the girl must have felt. "She gave birth to a son, who, in order to save Tansho from shame, my father claimed as his own."

Here, Sango became quite distressed. "But the child was cursed. Tansho realized this at the child's birth, but when she tried to kill the offensive baby, the curse worked as a defense and she attacked her. She was killed by her own son." Sango paused, her lip curling in disgust. "Tansho's three ladies-in-waiting took the baby to my father. He named him 'Naraku.'

"My father was stricken by grief and anger. He sent the three ladies on a quest to the northland, where they might find a legendary miko. After journeying many, many months and surviving countless hardships, the three ladies reached the miko. After examining Naraku, she agreed that the child must be sealed. She performed the ritual that very evening, using the same vile which had contained the poison Naraku's father had used on Tansho as a seal."

Here, Sango's voice faltered and she was forced to pause in her tale. Miroku could not believe what he was hearing. "But another thing was needed; the miko required blood to make the seal complete. The three ladies offered theirs, and Naraku was placed in limbo. The three ladies returned to their homeland."

Tears formed in Sango's eyes. Strangely enough, Miroku was beginning to feel a strong tug on his own heart. Something about this tale was deeply affecting him. "My father was overjoyed to hear of his stepson's sealing and rewarded the ladies handsomely. Somewhat to his surprise, he found that he had fallen in love with one of the three ladies, the youngest, whose name was Kinuko." For the first time since she had begun her story, Sango looked up at Miroku. "Kinuko was my mother, houshi-sama."

Miroku's mouth fell open.

Sango quickly looked away again, shutting her eyes tightly. Several tears trickled down her cheeks and she hurriedly brushed them away. "The second lady's name was Mayuko, and she returned to practice under the miko. The oldest by several years, Kahori, married the lord Takara Bairei."

Miroku's eyes grew wide. His heart stopped. His blood turned cold. His mother, Takara Kahorihis mother had been one of the three who sealed Naraku away with her own blood.

"The blood seal was promised to be upheld as long as the blood of the three ladies remained flowing in the body of a mortal. But it came with a terrible price.

"Mayuko fell out of contact with the other two. Kahori soon had a son." Sango paused and placed a hand over her heart. "Kyoden was that son. But Takara-sama did not feel secure with just one child. Kahori had another son, another boy. She named him Miroku." Sango glanced at Miroku, her eyes mournful. Miroku could not meet her gaze. He was beginning to understand:

It was as little a coincidence that his mother had fallen ill immediately after his birth as it was a that he and Sango had joined on a quest to seek out and destroy Naraku.

"Miroku was sick at birth, and it was a wonder that he survived. But the true concern of the kingdom lay with the health of their princess. Kahori was on the brink of death, too ill even to nurse her son. It turns out, houshi-sama, that the more the blood of the three ladies was spread, the faster it would kill the original bearer."

Miroku closed his eyes. He wouldn't let Sango see the pain reflected within them; wouldn't allow her to see how her words were tearing at his heart.

"A few years later, my mother gave birth to me. Kyoden and I were engaged several months later, I guess in hopes of securing the blood seal. Anyway, despite Kahori's condition, my mother desired to bring forth an heir for my father. He warned her against it, but five years after my own birth my mother went into labor with a son, my little brother Kohaku." Sango stopped, taking a calming breath. "My mother died shortly after she finished labor."

Miroku bowed his head and muttered a silent prayer under his breath. The room suddenly seemed darker, and upon finishing his prayer, Miroku stroked the fire. The flames cackled evilly. Then, it was quiet again. Finally, Miroku whispered, "Is that why the seal weakened, is that why Naraku is free?"

"No," Sango continued. "Kohaku and I remained to carry the blood of our mother and keep the seal intact. However, recently my father received word of Mayuko's death. Mayuko was married, but there was a secret she had kept from my mother and Kahori."

"She was infertile, wasn't she?" Miroku said softly.

Sango nodded. "Her blood disappeared from the earth, and the seal must have weakened."

"But you and Takara Kahori are still alive!" Miroku protested. "Isn't that enough? Isn't it enough that Takara Kahori hangs on the brink of death, remaining alive only to uphold the blood seal? Isn't it enough that you spend each day in a living hell?"

Sango bit her lip and looked away. Miroku sighed in frustration. He had said too much. He watched as a single tear drifted down the princess's cheek. He could offer her no comfort; he was nursing his own aching heart.

Finally, Sango muttered, "The seal needs the blood of all three, houshi-sama."

"Then" Miroku said, sitting back in disheartenment. "Is there any hope?"

Sango didn't answer, her own mind clouded with uncertainty. Miroku understood; her chances for the revenge she yearned for were becoming bleaker and bleaker.

But perhaps, he thought suddenly, that was a good thing.

--

"Hurry up, Mayuko!" Kahori shouted over the howling wind. "We'll freeze to death if we don't make it to the village!" She adjusted the strap that tied their supplies to her back and waited for her younger companion to round the bend in the road.

"It's not my fault," Mayuko moaned as she came into view of the others. "This brat won't stop fussing!" She held the thrashing child up as evidence.

"It's because he's cold," Kinuko explained, pulling her shawl tighter around her shoulders. "You're letting the snow hit him right in the face. Cover him with the blanket!"

"You say that as if you care whether the brat lives or dies out here," Mayuko said with a frown.

Kahori sighed and brushed her bangs out of her face with the back of her hand. "Despite everything that's happened, Mayuko, Naraku is still the baby of Tansho-sama, and we have the responsibility to bear him safely to the miko."

Mayuko rolled her eyes. "Whatever, but you're not the one carrying him."

Kinuko opened her mouth to argue, but Kahori only shook her head. "Let her go, she's tired."

Suddenly, through the blinding gusts of the blizzard, the village emerged. Kinuko exclaimed happily and clapped her hands together. "Finally!" she called out, beginning to rush down the road.

Kahori smiled reflectively at the exuberant fifteen-year-old. Not that she could deny she was happy they would get a warm place to sleep as well. Even Mayuko, who was always being pessimistic and gloomy was smiling a little. Together, the three ladies walked down the hill into the village.

The village leader greeted them warmly, recognizing them as servants of Kawate-tono. They entered his house and while Mayuko put the cursed baby in bed, Kahori and Kinuko set out their sleeping mats. They had a hot meal and then laid down sleep, unaware that a decade later, two of their heirs would be sleeping on the same floor.

- Ichimu


	12. Sakura Blossoms and the Mountain Lake

Disclaimer: If I owned Inuyasha, no one would like it.

Author's Note: Thank you so much for the pleasant, constructive reviews! I didn't mean to sound like a brat! :-( I just need feedback, you know?

Anyway, because there was some confusion expressed with my original characters, I've decided to create an easy-to-use character chart. And I had a name wrong in my disclaimer: Takara Tansho was supposed to be Kawate Tansho! -

****

Kawate Shigeki (Sango's Father) – m. – **Kawate Tansho** ----- **Naraku** (from being raped by a youkai) Then

****

Kawate Shigeki – m. – **Kawate Kinuko**, (the youngest of the three maidens)----- **Sango** and **Kohaku**. (Kinuko died giving birth to Kohaku).

****

Asahi Mayuko, (the second oldest (or second youngest) of the three maidens) ----- no children.

****

Takara Bairei – m. – **Takara Kahori,** (the oldest of the three maidens) ----- **Kyoden**, then **Miroku**. (She fell ill after giving birth to Miroku).

****

Tomomi is Sango's best friend. **Domeki** is her grandfather, who is also a houshi.

****

Scarlet is a mysterious young woman (with loyalties only to herself).

****

Ginmaru (is the silver-scaled lizard-like youkai who) serves Naraku.

This is just a short chapter for the sake of expanding Kyoden and Mirokus' characters. I think it's a really sweet brother moment, and I hope you all like it. I promise the next chapter will be longer, but it's hard to write long chapters when you're spending so much time stressing about midterms and not enough actually studying for them!

Translations:

Hahaue- (hah-hah-weh) an honorific term for one's mother.

Ne- (neh) Right? ; Isn't it so?

__

Chapter 12, Sakura Blossoms and the Mountain Lake

It was silent but for the gentle mantra of the lark. Miroku opened his eyes slowly. He was on his futon in the middle of his room. In the next room over, he could now hear Kyoden stirring. Smiling lightly to himself, Miroku rose to his feet and rolled up his futon. Today was his fifteenth birthday.

He secured his hakama around his waist, and then exited his room in utter silence. With a finger gesture, he dismissed his two guards, and then moved to Kyoden's room. Kyoden's guards bowed low to him, and Miroku tipped his head in return.

"Miroku-sama," One of the guards muttered.

Miroku turned to him. "Yes?"

"Oji-sama is waiting for you inside."

Miroku nodded. "Thank you." With that, the guard reached out and pulled open the shoji. Miroku entered.

His brother's room was open to the balcony, and his room was filled with the white light of dawn. Miroku stood blinking in the doorway for a few moments before he spied his older brother sitting by the window. He signaled to Kyoden's guards, and they swiftly moved to shut the shoji behind him. When he was sure they could not be heard from without, Miroku crossed the room to sit beside his brother.

Kyoden was resting in lotus position, his sword lying across his lap. Miroku eyed it suspiciously while he sat, but Kyoden made no movement. After a few moments like this, Miroku turned his gaze to the world sprawled out before him. The sun had just risen, and its rays pierced the earth boldly, throwing their father's kingdom into sharp detail. The hills of their land folded neatly across the landscape, crested by villages. The waterfall that ran from the mountains behind their castle plunged into a swift river, which proceeded to meander through the hills, stretching as far as the eye could see. Sakura blossoms were in bloom, and the air was filled with their soft petals.

One landed lightly in the center of Miroku's palm.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" Kyoden said suddenly, causing Miroku to jump.

Miroku ran a hand through his jet-black hair to calm himself as he turned to his brother. "Yeah, I guess it is," he fumbled, looking at the tiny pink petal in his hand.

A smile tugged at the corner of Kyoden's mouth. He opened his dark eyes and turned to his brother. "You know, Miroku, I was just thinking. It's funny but—" His voice trailed off, and his face became reflective. He turned to look out across the kingdom that was his birthright.

Miroku leaned closer. He let the wind brush the sakura blossom from his palm, and then watched its descent. "But?" he questioned.

Kyoden shook his head. "It's probably me just being pessimistic, but, I've never felt that I would actually inherit father's kingdom."

Miroku blinked in surprise and turned to his brother. "What do you mean?! Kyoden, you were _born_ to inherit father's kingdom!"

Kyoden waved his hand in front of his face. "I know, I know, Miroku. It's just a feeling that I have." He paused and suddenly his face became very grave. "No, Miroku, it's _more _than a feeling it's"

There was a timid knocking on the door. Miroku and Kyoden looked up apprehensively. "Oji-sama," one of the guards called from outside. "Your father is here to see you."

The brother's exchanged a glance. It was forbidden for the princes to meet one another in their rooms without their father's knowledge. "Tell my lord that I'll be there in a moment!" Kyoden ordered the man. He nodded swiftly to Miroku, and the young man leapt to his feet.

"The closet," Kyoden muttered. Immediately, Miroku was there. He slid the door open and leapt inside. Through the thin rice paper, he could still see the room and Kyoden as he crossed it to greet their father.

The Great Lord of the Eastern Land entered slowly, his head held high. Kyoden lowered himself to the ground in a low bow and the guards slid the door shut. Takara Bairei turned to his older son. "Kyoden, Miroku is not in his room. Do you know where he is?" Discreetly, Takara Bairei eyed the corners of the room. Miroku held his breath.

Kyoden shook his head. He was still on the ground. "No my lord, perhaps he has gone for a walk?"

Miroku bit his lip. Takara Bairei was a living, breathing lie detector. By lying to their father, Kyoden was risking the very love of his father. But perhaps with Kyoden's face buried in the ground, it would be harder for their father to discover Kyoden's lie.

"Now, why would he do that?" Takara Bairei asked, moving toward the balcony.

"Perhaps he wanted to get some fresh air? After all, if my most gracious lord has not forgotten, it _is_ his birthday," Kyoden reminded his father gently.

Miroku gasped as Takara Bairei's whip hit the wall. Kyoden did not flinch. Miroku found his pool of admiration for his brother overflowing. "I _never_ forget, Kyoden. And some day when you have inherited all the land that is mine, you will understand this."

Kyoden bowed deeper. "Of course, my lord, I am unworthy of your mercy." His voice did not falter. Miroku hated to see his brother groveling so. If he could, he would storm into the room and rise to his brother's defense. But the mere thought of standing up to his father made the fifteen-year-old's knees weak.

Takara Bairei nodded to his son and then crossed the room. He knocked on the door and it slid open to allow him to pass. He paused in the door and turned back to his still-bowing eldest son. "And Kyoden?"

"Yes, my lord?"

"If you do see Miroku, tell him his mother wishes him a happy birthday."

Miroku's heart jerked in his chest. His mother wished him a happy birthday? The very day that had caused her to spend the last fifteen years of her life in intolerable agony, barely clinging to the threads of lifehis birthday. Tears formed in Miroku's eyes, eyes that mirrored those of the mother he hadn't been allowed to see in seven years.

Takara Bairei's eyes lifted to the closet where Miroku lay paralyzed with emotion. His countenance darkened considerably, and Miroku looked at his feet. He had known the whole time that Miroku was there, but had appeared oblivious so as to not humiliate his eldest son. It was clear who bore their father's love, but Miroku did not envy his brother. If that was the love his father had to offer, he could do without. Smacking his whip on the wall once more, Takara Bairei exited the room. The door snapped shut behind him.

Kyoden rose from the floor and looked over at the closet. "You can come out now, Miroku. He's gone."

Miroku wiped the tears from his eyes hurriedly; he would not let his brother see how weak he was. Then, he slid the door open and stumbled out. Slowly, he met Kyoden's gaze. "Thank you," he muttered.

Kyoden shook his head. "No, no, it was nothing."

"It was _something_," Miroku protested softly.

The brothers stood in silence for a time. Then, Miroku whispered. "You're going to see hahaue today, ne?"

Kyoden nodded.

A smile fluttered across Miroku's face. "Tell her I said thank you." With that, he turned and retreated to the grounds to take the walk Kyoden had risked their father's love to prove he was taking.

--

"Houshi-sama?"

Miroku turned to look at the small woman at his elbow. He smiled apologetically. "I'm sorry, Sango, I just got a little side-tracked." The princess smiled softly and began to walk again, stepping lightly on the snow-covered road. Miroku watched her go, and then looked at the small sakura bud in his hand. "You're early, my friend." Miroku paused, his eyes shutting tightly against the build up of emotions within him. "Far too early."

He let the bud slip off his palm and back into the snow, then hurried to catch up to Sango.

--

The sky was the color of ash, and not so much as a ray of sunlight pierced the heavy rain clouds. The clouds, low as they were today, wove in and out of the great northern peaks like a garland. In the muddy light, the mountains' barren landscape was cast into harsh detail. Nothing moved along them. A small valley lay cradled in the bosom of its mother mountains. A lake yawned out across the valley, deep and impenetrably black. Here, mist swirled along the still surface on lacy tendrils.

A small procession of carriages eased along the edge of the lake, draped in shadows. All at once, a pale hand slipped out from the black curtains of the largest carriage. It singled a stop. Immediately, the procession halted.

Then, the hand extended to an arm, and from there, a whole torso. Finally, the whole dark body was free. Two sapphire eyes surveyed the lake slowly.

"My lord."

The sapphire eyes darted to the left to acknowledge the new speaker, a silver-scaled lizard-like youkai. "Ginmaru," the owner of the sapphires hissed steadily.

The youkai bowed his head at the acknowledgement. "My lord Naraku, forgive me for asking, but why have we stopped?"

The sapphire eyes sharpened with excitement, and harsh laughter broke free from Naraku's throat. "For the same reason we have come, Ginmaru: I have business with the magic nestled deep in this lake." With that, Naraku turned his back to the youkai, disregarding him.

He proceeded to lift his hands in the air, looking hard at the lake with his icy eyes. Suddenly, two long whips exploded from the flesh of his palm. They thrust their sharpened ends into the lake, their base still joined to Naraku's palm.

Naraku remained like this for a long time, and the mist grew thick around him with the coming of night. Then, so slowly that at first even Ginmaru's keen black eyes didn't catch it, the water began to move. Then, it began to boil. Ginmaru called out sharply in surprise.

A light began to shine forth from the depths. A frenzied smile appeared on Naraku's face.

Then, the water's surface exploded. Ginmaru shielded his eyes with his tail, and when he looked again, a ragged gasp filled his lungs with the cold mountain air. The sight that met his eyes froze his very blood.

- Ichimu

P.S. PLEASE REVIEW!! :-)


	13. The Dragon and the River

Disclaimer: I wonder how many times I have to clearly state that I am not the owner of Inuyasha and that it belongs to Rumiko Takahashi, Sunrise, and Viz Cheese- I mean Viz Communications.

Author's Note: Well, I've had the idea for this chapter since the beginning of their story, but I never actually figured out the sequential events.

Sorry this didn't turn out much longer than the last. I really thought it was going to be longer.

Anyway, I hope you enjoy this.

Translations:

Abunai (Ah-boo-nye): Look out!

Itai (ih-tye): Ow!

Kami-sama (Kah-mee-sah-mah): God

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Chapter 13, The Dragon and the River

A small band of men followed the mountain trail carefully as it wound between the barren northern peaks. . In their midst, a young woman. She walked along quietly, tuning out the men's boisterous conversation. She ran a hand through her dark hair, letting its crimson undertones sparkle in the sun. There was no wind this day and despite their tireless search, her icy eyes perceived no life stirring on the barren landscape. Something was going to happen, something big.

Suddenly, the mountains shook in their foundations. The men came to an uneasy halt around her, their hands coming to the hilts of their swords. The woman stopped at once, snapping her beautiful face up to look at the higher peaks.

"Scar-Scarlet-san," one of the men said. His tone was anxious. "What's going on?"

Scarlet didn't answer; she was straining to peer through the veil of clouds that cut the sun off from the high peaks. Within them, something stirred. Scarlet narrowed her eyes, pushing her already overly keen eyesight to its limits. Then, she saw a flash of blue light peaking through the haze. "Kami-sama" she said in a hushed voice. "What has he done?"

The earth shook again.

"Itai!" Scarlet exclaimed as a small rock hit her arm. She clutched the limb. Then, she heard a crash overhead. Slowly, she raised her eyes. The boulder was already falling. With a gasp, she did her best to tumble out of the way. She was too late. The boulder landed with a sickening noise on her ankle. Scarlet barked as pain seared up her leg.

"Scarlet-san!" one of the men cried, running over to her. He was immediately swept over the edge by another boulder.

The rest of the men hesitated, then sprinted to her side. They pushed the boulder free, exposing Scarlet's bruised and deformed ankle. She winced as she saw the mutilated appendage.

All at once, a shiver rocketed up Scarlet's back. She spun around just in time to see a dark form explode from the haze around the high peaks. "Run!" Scarlet screamed, her voice cracking with the force. The men looked around at her wildly. "You fools, just go! Run, or you'll all be killed! RUN!"

The men looked again at the giant shape that was now slinking across the sky. As its mass blocked out the sun, their faces went deathly pale. One grabbed his sword and hollered at it.

"No!" Scarlet cried, spinning around to face him. "You fool!" The whole earth jerked violently now, knocking the men to their knees. A crack emerged on the mountain trail.

The dark form's head twisted, and one catlike golden eye fell to the man who had hollered.

The men gasped, realizing too late what the creature was.

A deep growl of satisfaction rumbled from within the dragon's chest. "Ah, my first meal," he said, his voice shaking boulders off the summit.

Scarlet was white now. "Run! GET OUT OF HERE!" she shrieked.

Without a second thought to the injured woman, the men turned and sprinted down the peak. Scarlet watched them for a moment, then turned to see the dragon arching down towards her.

When his snout was only twenty feet away, the dragon stopped. His blue scales shone luminously in the sunlight. His face was wizened and aged, and twisted with evil. A sickly smile spread across his face, exposing his thousands of large fangs. His golden eyes were focused on the small woman on the mountain trail.

Then, a dark form detached himself from the dragon's back. He fell towards the earth, and Scarlet found herself wishing terribly that he would dash himself against the rocks. However, the creature landed effortlessly on the trail, and turned to face Scarlet with a cool expression on his face.

"Naraku," Scarlet snarled in recognition.

"Scarlet," he cooed, "It's been a long time."

Scarlet glared up at the demon coldly.

-

As Miroku and Sango neared the Northern Range, the air grew more and more frigid. It was sunny, and they avoided shadows so they could allow the warm sunlight to hit them. For the most part, the snow had melted. It lingered now in small patches in shaded areas. Frost still glimmered on the grasses like tiny crystals. They could see their breath cloud the air in front of them.

There were no words exchanged. Early that day, before the sun had even unfurled itself from the milky twilight, Miroku had awoken without her. He had picked his way through the dark to the hill, and then taken down the bodies. He had provided a proper burial for each. Sango was deeply hurt. It was her fault that the village had been massacred. It had been her duty to bury them. But Miroku had done it for her. Her honor was blemished.

Miroku walked quietly in front of her. He seemed content to just watch the road. Once before, they had found a budding sakura tree. He had paused to examine a small bud, but had continued when Sango called out to him. She wondered at the strangeness of his behavior.

As they neared the forest at the base of the mountains, their sighting of villages became less and less frequent. Several times, Sango felt a presence watching her from the shadows. She did not mention it to Miroku, but it was a weight on her conscious thought. It kept following her, then slipping away when she tried to face it. She knew it was black, dark, and it reeked of fear. Her stomach knotted uncomfortably.

It was late afternoon when the tremors came. Miroku froze in his tracks, and Sango fell into him, throwing her arms around his broad chest. With a cacophony of noise, the birds exploded from the trees and began to flee south, away from the mountains. As quickly as she had grabbed Miroku, Sango released him again.

They were in the forest now, and a river gurgled before them. They had been following it north, as the road had turned west at the river.

Another tremor came, this one knocking an old spruce from its foundations. It crashed into the river, barely missing Sango. It knocked the two of them clear off their feet.

"What's going on!" Sango moaned.

Miroku shook his head and turned his amethyst eyes to the Northern Range. There were clouds shielding the higher peaks, but her could sense something moving within them. Then, as he watched, something exploded from the haze.

Sango and Miroku gasped in unison. Throughout their lives-painted on tables, paper walls, and all imaginable paraphernalia- the image of this mighty creature had surrounded them. It was a dragon.

"Sango" Miroku breathed, his voice harsh with disbelief. "We've got to run."

Sango nodded slowly. "But to where? The way back is blocked by that tree!"

The earth shook one more time. The two royal teens watched as the dragon arched its huge mass down to the mountain. It paused there a moment, and then turned south. Miroku felt the creature's golden gaze as it perceived him; it felt as though a spear had just been thrust through his heart. Behind him, he could feel Sango shaking. Miroku could feel the dragon smile, although he could not see it. Then, the dragon dove to the ground, slipping out of Miroku's field of vision.

They stood frozen for a few moments.

Miroku frowned and looked at the river. "We should cross it and then flee south. I have a feeling that dragon isn't going to leave us be."

Sango nodded, her voice lost to fear.

Miroku pulled her to her feet, and then turned to face the river. It was broad and a little swift, but there were stepping stones jutting out of the water. "We'll cross here," he decided, not willing to travel any further north. He tried to remain as calm-appearing as possible, though the memory of the dragon's gaze still shook him. His amethyst eyes careened to Sango's pale face. "You should cross first."

With a nod, Sango walked to the river's edge. Picking up her houshi robes daintily, she jumped onto the first stone. Miroku was holding his breath, his eyes darting between the forest north and Sango's crossing. Sango leapt to the second stone, but it was wet. She pitched forward dangerously, and Miroku forgot about the dragon, focusing on the princess. "Sango! Abunai!" he exclaimed.

But the princess had already steadied herself. She looked back at him and smiled shakily to show she was alright. Then, she made her way to the third stone, and then the forth. She was in the middle of the river now.

That was when Miroku heard the rumbling. At first, he ignored it, his attention riveted on Sango's supple form. It wasn't until the sound was booming in his ears that he remembered the dragon. At the same moment, he and Sango looked upriver.

Sango screamed. The water was surging like a tidal wave, and it was headed right for her.

"SANGO!" Miroku shouted, jumping out onto the first stone.

Sango looked to the western bank, and then to the eastern, where Miroku was struggling toward her. Making a swift decision, she leapt toward the monk. Back onto the third stone. They met on the second, grabbing one another. The tidal wave hit them.

Miroku churned water, beating his way to the surface. Sango's wrist was clasped firmly in his palm. They were spinning wildly, and for a moment, Miroku thought that perhaps he was swimming down instead of up. They surfaced, gasping for air.

They were moving swiftly downstream, completely carried by the ferocious current. Everything was a blur of motion and the thunder of the water. Debris was all around, and they kept knocking into it. The water was white with rage, and kept diving into their mouths when they tried to breathe. Their robes were heavy, and they were constantly being pulled under water. Miroku tried to swim to the west bank, but was finding the effort futile. They couldn't escape the wild river.

Suddenly, a huge log hit Miroku hard on the back on his head. His vision blurred as his head lurched forward. His whole body went numb. He heard Sango's scream, and it ripped him from the unconsciousness he was fast diving into.

She was already a fair distance farther downstream. "Houshi-sama!" she wailed, struggling to keep her head above water. "Houshi-sama!" One arm was extended to him.

Miroku reached for the pale limb, but his fingers slipped as he was pulled under. When he resurfaced, the princess was gone.

-

Sango's dark eyes fluttered open. She was on land, she knew, but she could still feel the water beating mercilessly against her body. She could feel the sting of so many cuts and bruises covering her. Her robes were in disarray. Slowly, and without getting up, she examined her surroundings.

She was in the forest, in a small clearing. Beside her, a fire roared. Miroku was no where in sight. Across from her, a feminine form sat tied to a tree. Her head was bowed and her dark hair, which was slipping free from its confines, shone crimson in the light. A small trickle of blood was dried against her forehead. Sango recognized her immediately.

It was Scarlet.

-

Miroku pulled himself free of the water. He threw himself onto the bank, and a series of harsh coughs freed water and vomit from his body. His face ashen, he dragged himself further from the water, using the grasses as a lever. It was night now, and the air was arctic. If he stayed outside in wet clothes, he knew he was going to die.

Suddenly, he spotted something through the trees. He barked in surprise and struggled towards it on his hands and knees. It was a small hut, he realized as he grew near. Unconsciousness bubbled up temptingly behind his eyelids. With a shout for help, he collapsed.

- Ichimu

This is not as much of a cliffy as it could have been, mind you. Please review!


	14. Bandits and Monsters

Disclaimer: Inuyasha is property of its rightful owners. This story, however, belongs to me and will someday be published (if all goes according to my master plan for world domination, that is) with different names for my main characters. So, no stealing!

Author's Note: All I can say is that this was an extremely hard chapter to write. Despite how pointless this chapter may seem to you now, it is in fact very essential to the story line. As things begin to come together, I'm sensing an ending is nearby. But don't worry, it won't be _too _near.

I hope you guys enjoy the new (kind of) additions! ;-) More about them and what my thought process was on them in the next chapter. (But you'll have to read this chapter to find out what I'm talking about!)

And -by the way- I've finally been able to flesh out a cover for this story. It has yet to be colored and perfected, but email me if you're interested in seeing the artwork.

Thanks always for your wonderful, supportive reviews. They mean the world to me, really-)

Translations:

Damare (dah-mar-ray)- Stop

Haori (hay-or-ree)- A shirt worn over one's gi. Various characters wear them throughout the Inuyasha series. Inuyasha's red shit is one variation. There is also Kagura, though hers is much more elaborate. For the best image, you can look to Himura Kenshin from Rurouni Kenshin. It's all he ever wears (along with his gi and hakama, of course)

Ichi, ni, san (ee-chee, nee, sahn)- One, two, three

Kunai (koo-nye)- A small knife used by ninjas. The structure is pretty simple, really. It's like a sharp peg with a finger ring at the end of the handle. I understand they use it in various martial arts as well. If you need an image, you can Google it pretty easily.

__

Chapter 14, Bandits and Monsters

"Wake up."

The harsh command shot through Sango's body like an electrical current. She jumped up, sweat covering her body. She had only been asleep for a few moments- she had been trying to keep watch for their captor all night- but now all her previous weariness was wiped away.

"Stand."

Immediately, Sango was on her shaking, weak knees.

"Be still."

Sango's legs stopped shaking. She turned to face the speaker, her heart beating wildly in her chest. She couldn't move. Even as she turned, she felt an alien force spinning her around. It was as if her free will had been eliminated.

She now faced a tall man in his late middle ages. His dark hair was pulled into a top knot. His haori was white and his hakama was deep blue with ornate silver dragons embroidered across it. He scrutinized her with golden eyes that she felt could see right through her soul. "State your name," he commanded.

Sango wanted to tell him that it was common courtesy to provide one's own name before asking for another's, but her lips and vocal cords had other plans. "Kawate Sango," she said. Her mahogany eyes widened.

The man smiled hideously. "As I thought."

There was movement behind Sango, and then a small gasp. Though she could not turn herself to see, Sango suspected that Scarlet had awoken. The man cocked an eyebrow and looked past Sango to where Scarlet was bound to the tree.

"You! Let her go!" Scarlet's voice snarled.

"Silence," the man ordered, his eyes narrowing.

Instantly, Sango's jaw snapped shut. She felt the hollowness of her voice box as her voice vanished. Tears welled up in her eyes. What was happening to her?

"You can't control me!" Scarlet said, her voice even louder than before. "You'll release her now, or I'll!"

The man's tongue flickered out and he licked his thin lips. Sango was terrified to discover the man's tongue was purple. "What will you do, Scarlet-sama? You're tied to that tree."

Scarlet squeaked, her voice lost in her rage.

The man turned again to Sango. "Speak," he said.

Sango had her voice back. Her jaw dropped. She couldn't form words quickly enough. Her voice was already coming out of her open mouth. A sound came out, something animalistic. She gasped at the noise. She said speedily, "Are you the one who pulled me out of the river? Where is Miroku? Why is Scarlet-san here? Where are we? Who are you? What are we doing here?"

She ran out of words to say and tried to stop, but her voice kept coming. It came out in garbled speech. Thinking fast, she began to recite a poem, her cheeks red with humiliation.

The man watched her with a smirk. "Silence, " he said at length.

Sango's lips sealed once again, her next word stillborn on her frozen tongue.

"My name is Ezakiya Ryudaisetsu. I am the dragon you saw flying over the mountains yesterday, and the one who caused the river to overflow and separate you from that impertinent houshi. That houshi- what did you call him? Oh yes, Miroku. Well, he's most likely at the bottom of the river bed at this moment."

Scarlet's heart fell to her toes. Dead? Miroku, dead? No, she screamed in her mind. No, it wasn't true. It couldn't be true. Miroku was alive and any minute now, he would come around the corner, his shakujou ready, his posture kingly, his objectiveto save her, of course.

The manor dragonor Ryudaisetsu was still talking. "Why Scarlet-sama is here does not concern you. At least, not yet. No" And for a moment, his golden eyes darted to where Sango thought Scarlet must be. They quickly found Sango's face again. "We're in the forest, not too far from the river. Right now, we're waiting for Naraku-sama to return."

Sango bristled at the name. Her stomach turned sharply. Behind her, Scarlet made a small sound of struggle and Sango could hear her fighting against the cords that bound her to the tree.

"And no, I am not the one who pulled you out of the river. You will meet them later, if Naraku doesn't have them killed first."

"Doesn't have who killed?" said a cocky voice from above.

Sango lifted her eyes to the speaker. Shock widened her mahogany orbs as she beheld him.

(-)

"Oi, are you going to sleep forever?"

A strong kick connected with Miroku's stomach, waking him and sending him spinning across the floor where he hit a wall. He was up immediately, Kyoden's sword at the ready. He hesitated when he saw the man before him. "You!"

It was the bandit that Miroku had fought when Sango had been captured. His hakama was in considerably worse shape, but this time he wore a dark haori over his gi. His face was still covered by the black shroud. "Me," he responded with a devilish smirk in his voice.

"What do you want? Why are we here?"

The man shrugged. "You tell me. After all, _you're_ the one who collapsed on my sister's doorstep. _You're_ the one who kept her children up all night with her screaming about some princess."

Miroku frowned, his amethyst eyes narrowing in suspicion. "Who are you?"

"Ah," the man said slowly. "Well it's not often that I show people my face. But since the boss said that it was ok" The man reached up, and removed the black shroud.

Miroku gasped. Across the man's eyes there was a huge, nasty-looking scar. Both eyes had been sealed shut, the damage beneath the pierced eyelids irreversible. He sheathed Kyoden's sword; he would not fight a blind man.

The man laughed bitterly. "It's an old wound. I got it when I was a young man during a battle at the Kawate castle. I was lucky that my sight was all I lost; not one of my companions survived."

"You're a samurai?"

"Correction: I _was_ a samurai. But that life is past me now; once I lost my sight, they no longer had any use for me. I was thrown out of the army, and sent to live in shame. Since then, I have continued to sharpen my abilities in sword fighting. No matter what the army says, I lost my sight that day, not my sword."

"But who are you?"

The man smiled and moved over to lean on the back of a large tree. "Ah yes, I did leave out that detail, didn't I?" He crossed his arms over his chest. "Name's Chiba Jou. You can call me Jou."

"I'm Miroku."

Jou cocked an eyebrow. "Got a surname to go with that?"

Now Miroku smirked. "You can call me Miroku."

Jou smiled. "Fair enough, fair enough. Now that we've settled that level of informality, let's go do what we set out to."

"And what's that?" Miroku asked as he rose to his feet.

"Why, to save your princess of course."

(-)

"Ton!" Scarlet shrieked. "Ton, get out of here!"

Sango just kept staring at the boy standing on the tree branch. He looked back at her as though he had just won a great victory. He was wearing a faded blue yukata, his hair pulled in a messy topknot. He had no sandals or any other covering for his feet, but rather stood barefoot in the snow. His two black eyes sparkled laughingly.

The boy, who Sango supposed was named Ton, winked at Sango. Then, he threw himself off the branch. Sango's eyes filled with horror. There was no way he could survive a jump like that! He was at least halfway up the soaring birch.

But, the boy landed effortlessly on the ground. With him closer at hand, Sango could see that he was about twelve. He had a kunai clutched in each hand, and his eyes had changed from jovial to dangerous. He rose to his full height and examined Ryudaisetsu. "Let them go," he commanded.

Ryudaisetsu examined the boy for a moment, then broke out in laughter. "You dare challenge me? If I commanded you, you would stab yourself through the heart this instant."

"Not I," the boy vowed.

"Ton" Scarlet said, her voice faltering. Sango thought she heard tears in the woman's voice.

Ryudaisetsu smirked. "Very well -but only because I'm in such a good mood- I'll let you try and hit me three times. Then I'll kill you with three words."

Please, Sango pleaded mentally. Please, don't fight him. Because of his words, my body won't even move.

"Very well," Ton said. "Let's begin."

And then, he was gone. Sango gasped, her heart skipping a beat. He had just been there! Then, there was a blur of motion at Ryudaisetsu's left. The dragonthing lifted his left hand.

It closed around Ton's face. He thrust the boy away, and Ton hit a tree hard.

Ryudaisetsu turned to the boy, his face stoic. "Ichi."

Ton rose to his feet, determination carved on his youthful face. Her raised his kunai, fell into a half crouch, and disappeared again.

Ryudaisetsu's right arm flew out, catching Ton's blur of noise and color. The boy went flying into the bushes. When he reemerged a second later, there was a thin trickle of blood coming from his mouth.

"Ni," Ryudaisetsu informed him. Ton had one more chance.

Ton moved again, his speed unmatched. Sango caught sight of a sapling's branches bending, and then snow fell from the heights. The trees! she realized. He's in the trees!

A moment later, Ryudaisetsu took a step to his right, and Ton appeared in the spot he had been standing. Sango saw the streak of the kunai as it slashed the air, but she didn't see Ryudaisetsu's hand until Ton screamed in pain. Then, she saw that Ryudaisetsu's fingers were wrapped around Ton's wrist. The limb was twisted out of a shape.

Ryudaisetsu leaned in until his face was a hairbreadth's away from Ton's. A maniacal smile spread slowly across his face and his golden eyes brightened with bloodlust. "San."

He threw Ton away, and the boy landed heavily in the snow.

"NO!" Scarlet screamed. Sango could hear the wailing of the cords as she struggled against their hold. "No, he's only a boy! Take me instead! PLEASE!"

But Ryudaisetsu ignored her. He crossed to the boy, looking hungrily down at his still frame. "Cut," he commanded.

Immediately, Ton raised his good hand and brought the kunai he clutched within it across his chest. A deep wound formed, and the boy wailed, tears forming in his eyes.

Tears were already pouring down Sango's face. Stop him, she whispered mentally. Someone, please. Make him stop! She wanted to look away, but somehow, she couldn't.

"Break."

Ton reached down with shaking hands and pulled his leg to his chest. There, he gripped the skin until it turned white. There was a pause, and then a sickening crack sliced through the air. Sango's swallowed her vomit.

"DAMARE!" Scarlet screamed.

"Sta-"

Something whisked through the air, brushing past Sango's cheek, and landed in front of Ryudaisetsu. The dragon hissed and shrank away from it. Sango's heart leapt into her throat. It was Miroku's shakujou.

"Monster," accused a familiar yet venomous voice from behind Sango. She longed to whirl around, to run into Miroku's arms, to hold him, and hug him, and-

She stopped herself. What kinds of things was she thinking?

"Jou!" Miroku shouted. "Jou, they're here!"

A man exploded from the brush and darted across the clearing, as swift as a shadow retreating from the sun's rays. He was at Ton's side in a heartbeat, his arms collecting the whimpering child against his chest. "Ton" he whispered over and over. "It's alright, I'm here." Strangely enough, Sango could see that a black cloth covered the man's whole face.

Sango felt it as Miroku brushed past her. Her heart skipped a beat. She closed her eyes. She couldn't see him now; she was ashamed. Once again, she had failed to protect an important person.

"Houshi" Sango heard Scarlet whisper in disbelief. "Jou"

Miroku crossed the clearing, and Sango heard as he unsheathed Kyoden's sword. "Leave," he hissed.

Ryudaisetsu hissed, and then everything was silent.

Sango felt her free will come back in a rush, and she crumbled to her knees, exhaustion bubbling up inside of her. There were fast footfalls, and then she felt someone kneel in front of her.

"Sango"

The princess frowned. She wouldn't look at him, she told herself. But her heart was arguing otherwise. It told her she wanted nothing more than to see his face. She needed to know that he was truly alive

"Sango, won't you look at me?"

Later she would tell herself that it was the question that made her do it. After all, she had been following commands for a whole day. But for whatever reason, her heart won over her humiliation, and her eyes fluttered open.

As their eyes met and Sango once again beheld the stunning amethysts of Miroku's eyes, she knew that everything was going to be all right.

Please review! (I swear it makes me type faster)

Ichimu


	15. Losing Self

Disclaimer: If I owned InuyashaBut I don't. So don't sue. Please.

Author's Note: Yay! I have finally returned! Sorry guys. The emotional stress on me lately has been quite overpowering, and I have found my writer's block more of an issure than ever before. The thing is, I know what I want to say, it's just when the words come out, they sound muddled and poorly thought-out. But I'm back now!

As promised, I shall now rant about Chiba Jou and Chiba Ton. Honestly, when they made their first appearance in Chapter 3, I never expected them to reemerge. At least, not as good guys. Originally, they had no affiliation with Scarlet, which is very much not the case now. Scarlet also had a quite different purpose when she first came into being. But I'm here to talk about Jou and Ton, not Scarlet.

As far as inspiration goes, Jou is more or less modeled after my older brother. The cool, collected individual with a hint of cockiness in his bearing. Also, he's overly protective of his younger sibling, Ton, just like my brother is of me. Ton is more like my little brother. He wants desperately to prove himself, and to seem strong, when really he's just a child.

The cloth covering Jou's face was originally there to show how much of a sword master Jou truly was. It was really a last minute decision to make him blind, but I rather like it. It gives him more of a history, and a better reason to leave the Kawate army.

Well, I think that just about covers it.

Speaking of coversthe cover for this story is in the most finished state it's going to be in for a while. If anyone would like to see it, email me and I'll email it back to you. It's in JPEG form, so you should be able to open it regardless of what kind of computer you have.

Translations:

Houshi desu (hoh-shee) (deh-soo)- I am a monk, basically. Miroku says this to defend his poor shot-down honor.

Konnichiwa (kohn-nee-chee-wah)- Good day

Kosode (koh-soh-deh) – A simpler form of kimono. A kosode has small, three-quarter sleeves. Sango wears one in the series over her cat suit.

Nani (nahn-nee)- What?

Yukata (yoo-kah-tah)- In modern Japan, the yukata is a light cotton summer kimono, and is very informal. They are usually brightly colored and worn to festivities. In Sengoku Jidai, a yukata is a formal, festive kimono.

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Chapter 15, Losing Self

"Miroku-sama?"

Miroku looked up as Scarlet padded into the room. Her head wound was still bound in its first set of bandages –though the blood had now soaked through—and her yukata was far too tight around her chest, but her magnificent beauty was undaunted. The yukata had been provided by Jou's sister; it was the only garment she had that could possibly hope to fit around Scarlet's chest. With the light pouring in from behind her, her comely figure was quite obvious.

"What is it?" Miroku asked, trying to avoid looking at her chest. He spoke softly, careful not disturb Sango nor Ton, who were both asleep in the room, mending.

Scarlet walked farther into the room, letting the screen fall back into place. All that now lit the room were the pale slivers of light that seeped through the breaks in the screen. Scarlet paused, and looked over at Sango. "How's she doing?"

Miroku looked over his shoulder at the princess. "She still has a fever, but she'll be well enough once she finishes sleeping it off."

Scarlet smiled sadly. "I'm sorry for the things I said to her the first time we met. She stayed up all last night in wet clothes, watching over me." She looked up at Miroku. "It was really brave of her."

A grin started on Miroku's face. "Yes, well, you wouldn't believe how brave Sango really is."

"I'm sure," Scarlet said.

A look of sorrow swept over Scarlet, and her icy eyes darted to Ton, who laid spread out on his futon before Miroku. She knelt beside the ashen-faced youth.

Jou's little brother looked halfway to death. His black hair fanned out behind him in brilliant contrast to the pallor of his face. His forehead and upper lip were covered in fine beads of sweat. His bottom lip trembled. His chest, where his self-afflicted wound sat open and carefully cleaned, rose and fell with his shallow, quick breaths.

Something akin to a whimper escaped from Scarlet's chest as she reached out with shaking hand to stroke Ton's cheek. "Are you going to be operating on Ton now?" she said after a moment.

Miroku held up the threaded needle in his one hand and pointed to the bowl of hot water with his other to answer her question. As a houshi, he was expected to have medical training, but as a prince, his real training was very limited.

Scarlet frowned and looked from the medical tools to Miroku's face. "Do you have the proper training?"

"Houshi desu," Miroku lied, speaking as though that would help settle her doubts.

Scarlet arched an eyebrow. "Yes," she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm, "and I'm really a man."

Miroku's stomach dropped. He had been right, Scarlet did know he wasn't really a houshi. He looked at his hands, now folded neatly in lap. "How did you know?"

"How did I not?" Scarlet sneered. "Miroku-sama, we're all hiding something, some of us are just better at it than others."

Miroku's amethyst eyes lifted to her face, catching the light like a prism. "What are you hiding, Scarlet-san?"

Scarlet blinked, momentarily surprised by the question. As if in a sudden stroke of modesty, she reached up and tugged her yukata tighter around her chest. Miroku spied again the tattoo of the fiery phoenix that resided there. "Me?" she grinned, recalling his gaze to her face. "Why should I tell you if you haven't yet figured it out?"

Miroku frowned, but decided to let the matter slide. He would think more about it later.

They sat in silence for a moment, almost unconsciously watching Ton breathe.

"Can I do it?" Scarlet asked suddenly.

"Do what?" Miroku said, starting at the sound of Scarlet's voice.

"Can I operate on him?"

Miroku frowned and tightened his grip on the threaded needle.

Scarlet saw the gesture and narrowed her icy eyes. When she looked at him again, there was wild anger nestled just behind the crystal irises. "If this your way of telling me you don't trust me?"

Miroku thinned his lips, and then said, "Yes."

Scarlet tensed and looked away. "I thought perhaps we had achieved some sort of respect for one another, Miroku-sama." There was a definite change in her exterior from what it had been moments ago. Before, she had been open and relaxed. Now, she was filled with anger and hurt. Her whole body reflected it clearing: from the submissive position of her head to the clenched hands in her lap, she was vehement.

Scarlet pushed a lock of her dark hair behind her ears and looked up at Miroku. He was astonished to see tears sliding down her cheeks. "Sc-Scarlet" he stammered, his eyes wide and blinking.

"Miroku-sama," she managed, her voice infinitely calmer than her face. "This boy...he's like a brother to me! If it were you, what would you do?"

Miroku furrowed his brow and looked back at his hands. "I" he started. "I would entrust him to the care of the more well-equipped person."

Scarlet reached out and touched his clenched hands. Her touch was gentle, and surprisingly, comforting. "Miroku-sama, I think both of us know you are not that person."

Miroku looked up at her, and then away again. He nodded slowly, and then placed the needle in Scarlet's outstretched palm.

(-)

The sun was sinking slowly behind the horizon. Miroku watched it from the riverbank, his look distant. He was deep in thought, his mind mulling over matters as the water churned restlessly before him. He was afraid of the river, he knew, and longed to be far from it. But another part of him, the more commonsensical part, reminded him that the only way to escape fear was to conquer it.

Sango had been sleeping a whole half of the day. Her fever had risen and fallen in a steady pattern, but she had still not awakened. Ton was resting peacefully, his surgery completed. After Scarlet had left the room, Miroku had slipped in and checked the stitches carefully. He was surprised to find how skillful Scarlet's handiwork really was.

Again, Miroku wondered at the conversation he had shared with Scarlet. She had revealed to him that she knew he was not a houshi, but how much did she really know about him? Did she know who he really was, or just what he wasn't? And what was Scarlet's secret? Miroku frowned and placed his aching head in his hands. There would be no way of knowing unless he asked.

"Miroku-sama?"

Miroku lifted his face and grinned half-heartedly at Scarlet. She smiled back and pushed through the brush to sit beside him. "You wanted to talk?" Miroku opened his mouth to ask how she knew, but the woman raised a finger to silence him. "As I said before, Miroku-sama, you're no good at hiding things."

Once again, a half-smile started on Miroku's face. "I guess you're right."

"What do you want to talk about?" Scarlet prompted.

"What you said before," Miroku said, running a hand through his jet-black hair.

"Ah," Scarlet said softly. "You want to know about my secret."

"Well" Miroku frowned and smoothed an imaginary crinkle in his patched-up robes. "Yes."

"Then you're asking the wrong person," a cold voice chuckled from behind them.

The two companions whirled around. "Naraku!" Scarlet growled, her icy eyes narrowing.

Miroku curled his lip and drew Kyoden's sword. He rose to his feet and faced the evil thing.

Naraku bore a malicious smirk on his face. "Konbanwa, Scarlet and friend. So good to see you out here in the middle of nowhere with no one to come to your aid and the river at your backs, ready to swallow you whole."

For a moment, Miroku was overwhelmed by nausea, but he quickly regained his composure. "Naraku, you'll pay for what you've done! I know it was you who sent the dragon to flood the river!"

Naraku's face brightened with fiendish delight. "Ah! Clever boy," he oozed sarcastically. His sapphire eyes alighted on Kyoden's blade. "I see you're becoming quite confident using that sword, Miroku. It's clear you have yet to uncover its secrets."

"What do you want!" Scarlet barked, stepping forward.

Naraku narrowed his eyes and looked at the girl. "So rude. Shut up." He reached out and slapped her sharply across the face. Scarlet tumbled aside, caught off-guard. Radiating anger and hate, she wiped the blood from her lip and cast her ferocious gaze at Naraku.

"You bastard!" Miroku erupted. He tightened his hold on Kyoden's sword.

"Now really, oji. No need to be angry," Naraku cackled.

"O-oji!" Scarlet said, her wide eyes darting to Miroku's face, which had just darkened.

"Oh!" Naraku exclaimed, his eyes narrowing with pleasure. "You mean you didn't know, Scarlet?"

Scarlet was still looking at Miroku. "M-Miroku-sama, is this true?"

Miroku didn't move, didn't look at Scarlet. He kept his amethyst eyes trained to Naraku's face. There was rage in his aura. Clutching his brother's katana, his hand twitched. Every nerve in his body was on end. His mind screamed for blood, for vengeance.

But somewhere in the very back of his mind, there was another presence keeping his sword still.

"Have you come for a fight?" Miroku asked, his voice just above a hiss.

"Fight you?" Naraku sneered. "I wouldn't dream of it. Not yet anyway." He stepped back and placed his hand on the trunk of a nearby tree. "No, I'm here to give you fair warning, oji."

Miroku arched one eyebrow. "Warning?"

"Yes," Naraku smiled. "I'm here to warn you that the Blood Seal is weakening"

Miroku's eyes widened. Hahaue!' He regained his guarded exposure, and regarded Naraku icily. "What are you planning to do!"

Naraku's smile grew, becoming maniacal. "Me? Why, oji, I'm going to destroy your home, just like I did Sango's. And when that's done, I'm going to destroy you and the princess."

Miroku suddenly felt hollow, as he had when Fumihiko had told him of his brother's death. A memory bubbled up within him, and once again he stood in his mother's dark room, a small boy of eight.

You wanted to see me, hahaue?' he asked in his small child's voice.

Miroku? Is that you?' A woman's voice asked. It clear and calming like the ringing of wind chimes in a gentle breeze.

It's me, hahaue.'

There was the whisper of silk, and then a pale, beautiful face emerged from the darkness. Twin sets of amethysts met through the blackness of the room, and Miroku felt his heart swell in his chest. my baby. Come here.'

Miroku crept across the room to his mother's futon, trying to look strong and proud. His mother hadn't seen him since his birth, and he wanted to show her just how great a son he was.

He wasn't expecting to be pulled into his mother, engulfed in layers of silk. He was frozen for a moment, stunned and overwhelmed by this definite display of parental love. He breathed deeply, inhaling his mother's scent. It was like spring, crisp and fragrant.

' his mother whispered, tightening her arms around his shoulders. Miroku, I know it's been hard for you.' Miroku felt a tear hit his cheek. He looked up and saw his mother's eyes filled with moisture. I'm so sorry, my son. I've earned you your father's loathing.'

Surrounded by soft maternal security, Miroku felt his own sobs build up in his chest.

If only I'd been stronger. If only' She was cut off by her own sobs, and let her head fall onto Miroku's. I want you to know, Miroku. I love you. I love you with all my heart'

Miroku gasped and buried his face in the crook of his mother's neck so she wouldn't see the tears that were trailing silently down his cheeks. He could feel his mother's warm smile as she passed a hand through his dark hair.

Promise me something, Miroku.'

Miroku nodded, unable to speak because of the sobs that constricted his throat.

Promise me you'll be strong.'

I promise, hahaue'

Miroku looked at Naraku, his amethyst eyes dark and full of hate. "I won't let you do that."

Naraku raised his eyebrows. "Oh?"

"You won't destroy anything else! You bastard!" Miroku roared. He gripped his sword and brought it to his hand. "Your life ends here." And with that, Miroku cut the prayer beads from his hand, and released his curse.

It was the strangest thing Miroku had ever experienced. The Kazaana in his hand began sucking immediately. The whole world seemed to be twisting in the direction of his outstretched palm, including trees, earth, plants, Scarlet's long hair, and Naraku. Miroku could feel each item as it entered through the hole in his hand and was lost to oblivion. He smiled, somehow filled with deep, maniacal pleasure. He took a step towards Naraku, and then another.

Naraku's eyes widened as the Kazaana advanced on him. Miroku's smile grew.

Scarlet saw the evil smile on Miroku's face, and her heart leapt in her chest. "Miroku-sama" she breathed, amazed at the transformation the man had undergone in the last few moments. A sudden fear gripped her, and she rose shaking to her feet.

"Miroku-sama!" she screamed, running towards him. "No! Miroku-sama!"

Miroku ignored her and kept moving toward Naraku.

"Miroku-sama! Damare!" Scarlet reached out and grabbed the cloth along Miroku's back. "No! You have to stop!" There was something wrong with the air Miroku occupied. It was blacker than that around italmost as if an evil was omitting from the self-appointed houshi. She had to stop it, and quickly, before Miroku was consumed by it.

But Miroku was getting closer. His eyes were focused on Naraku's widened sapphire irises. He was hungryfor vengeance. He didn't even notice that his self was being pushed farther and farther into a corner of his mind.

"Stop it, Miroku. This is not who you are," a voice said suddenly in his mind, clear and precise and definite.

Miroku froze. "K-Kyoden?" he gasped, recognizing the voice.

There was no answer. Miroku looked in front of him and saw Naraku, watching him as if he was a monster. He felt Scarlet's hands on his back, and heard her fearful sobs.

"Stopplease, stop"

Miroku grabbed the strand of prayer beads that still hung around his wrist and gripped them firmly in his palm. The Kazaana was sealed away. When he raised his eyes to find Naraku, the demon was gone.

(-)

He was frustrated. Sango could feel it even though she lay across the room from him, but she couldn't understand this frustration. She watched as he dipped the cloth into the hot water, almost hypnotized by the movement. She watched his muscles tightened and twist as he wrung the cloth out and placed it on Ton's forehead.

And then he turned to her. There was immense weariness in his amethyst eyes, as though he hadn't slept in days. Sango offered him a small smile, and he looked surprised.

"You're awake," Miroku said. He rose and crossed the room to kneel beside her. Sango did not protest as he reached out to feel her forehead. He frowned. "You're still hot."

Sango looked at the door, through which a small sliver of light entered the room. "How long have I been out?" she asked softly, her voice weaker than she had expected it to be.

Miroku took the bowl from where it sat beside her futon and placed it in his lap. He extracted a small pouch from his robes and pulled the drawstrings open. Then, he emptied the powdery contents of the pouch into Sango's bowl. "Almost a day now," he informed her.

Sango grimaced. "What's in that?"

Miroku slipped a hand under her back to help her onto her elbows. He lifted the bowl to her lips. "I made it. It'll help you sleep."

Sango sealed her lips against the liquid, and it spilled onto her yukata.

Miroku sighed exasperatedly. "Sango" he moaned as he put the bowl down and reached out to wipe the liquid from the front of her yukata. "You need your rest. You stayed in your wet clothes all that night, and you're running a high fever."

Sango looked away from him. "I don't want that medicine."

'Buddha, help me,' Miroku pleaded, directing his eyes skyward. He picked the bowl up again and held it out imploringly. "Please, Sango."

Sango furrowed her brow and then turned to him. Her eyes darted from the bowl to his face several times, and then she collapsed her chest with a mighty sigh. "Fine," she whined.

A soft smile of gratitude spread across Miroku's face, and he offered the bowl to Sango's lips again. She locked eyes with him and then took a deep gulp of the medicine. When she had finished the bowl, Miroku put it back.

It began working almost immediately. Sango leaned back slowly. Her eyelids were heavy and her pillow comforting. She reached for her sheets, but didn't have the energy to take them up around her shoulders. Miroku saw her effort, then pulled the sheets up for her, tucking them securely around her body. He nodded to her and then turned toward the door.

"Houshi-sama" Sango said faintly.

Miroku turned, arching an eyebrow.

"Thank youfor saving me," Sango murmured.

Stupidly, Miroku blinked. Then, his customary boyish grin spread across his face. "As ever, Sango, you're most welcome."

Sango smiled and then closed her eyes.

Miroku watched her for a moment, slipping into the protective layers of sleep, and then sighed. Running a hand through his hair, he left the room. It had been a passing thought, a passing thingbut that did not excuse its existence. For a second, Miroku had wondered just how it would feel to have her lips pressed against his.

(-)

As she slept, Sango dreamt vividly. First, she was in the gardens of her home. The flowers were blooming with bright colors, and their silky petals were covered in a fine layer of dew. Kyoden stood beside her, but she couldn't see his face.

_Sango-sama, _he whispered to her.

Sango turned to him, and found suddenly that the distance between them had grown. His back was to her, and he was walking away. Sango tried to call to him, but she was voiceless.

Kyoden turned around then, and Sango barked in surprise.

It was Miroku.

The image faded and was replaced by a new one. She was in a large dark room completely empty but for her. Her head was bowed and she clutched a small dagger in her hand. Across the shoji to her far right, the misshapen shadows of demons danced. Sango lifted her dagger and held it to her wrist.

Then, she closed her eyes tightly and slashed.

There was no pain. Her eyes flew open as blood hit her cheek. Her eyes went wide, her face blanched, and a small gasp escaped her throat as she beheld what she had done: Her dagger was embedded deep in Miroku's chest.

_Sango, _he whispered weakly as he slumped over into her arms.

_Houshi-sama_Sango breathed. Panic welled up in her chest, and her blood ran cold. _HOUSHI-SAMA!_

"Sango, wake up."

Sango's eyes opened. "H-houshi-sama?" she questioned the dark room.

A face appeared from the blackness. "Konnichiwa, Sango." Sango recognized the face and the voice that belonged to it as Scarlet's.

"Konnichiwa, Scarlet" Sango muttered, pushing herself up onto her elbows.

Scarlet rose from her bedside. Her beautiful face was grave. "Houshi-sama is on the porch." She looked at the ground, and when she looked at Sango again, there was something dark hidden behind her icy blue eyes. "He wants to talk to you." With that, she turned and walked out of the room.

Sango slipped out of the futon. She found a white and magenta patterned kosode and a modest green apron folded neatly beside her futon. She changed out of her light white kimono and into the new clothes, grateful for something warmer than what she had been wearing. Scarlet reappeared and handed Sango a small white ribbon. Sango secured it around the end of her brunette locks and then slipped out of the room to the hall and then to the porch beyond.

Miroku was sitting just outside, his legs hanging over the edge of the porch. He didn't look up as Sango neared him. So, she sat down beside him and waited.

"Sango" Miroku whispered after a time. "Do you trust me?"

Sango jumped at the question. "Nani?"

"I asked: do you trust me?" Miroku turned and looked at her now. His amethyst eyes were intense, and Sango saw behind them the same darkness she had seen in Scarlet's.

Sango blushed lightly and lowered her eyes. "I-I suppose so."

Miroku shook his head. "No. I need a definite answer, Sango. Do you trust mewith your life?"

Sango blinked, but did not look at him yet. "Well, houshi-samado you trust _me_ with _your_ life?"

Miroku raised his eyebrows. Then, he flashed he one his most boyishly stunning grins and said, "Of course."

Sango smiled as well and looked at him. "Then I trust you, too."

Miroku nodded and turned his face southeast. "Sango, there's something we have to do."

Sango frowned. "What is it?"

There was sadness in Miroku's orbs as he looked at her again. "We have to go to the Takara kingdom, Sango."

Sango furrowed her brow in confusion. "What? Butwhy? When we're so close to Naraku, why would we go there?"

Miroku rose to his feet and sauntered off a few paces. All around, the trees of the forest loomed. And somewhere not far ahead, Sango could hear the loathsome gurgling of the river that had almost killed Miroku and herself. "While I was talking with Scarlet at the riverbank last night, Naraku appeared to us. He told us that he was going to attack that Takara kingdom and destroy it, just as he did to yours."

Sango blanched. "Do they have any idea?"

"No," Miroku said, shaking his head gravely. "They'll be struck without warning. And when that happens, the Blood Seal will be weakened even more." Sango wanted to see his eyes, to see what was going on in his head, but he wouldn't look at her. She noted suddenly that his hand was tightly clenching the hilt of Kyoden's katana. "SangoI can't let that happen."

Her grimace deepened. "No offense, houshi-sama, but why are you so bothered by it? You make it sound personal"

A shiver of tension passed through Miroku's frame, but was gone as soon as it had come. "I" he began. "I can't explain it. I just don't want something so awful to happen to someone else. The Takara kingdom has already lost the ideal, perfect heir to their throne; I don't think it's right to make them suffer anymore."

Sango rose to her feet. "If that's where Naraku is going, houshi-sama, that's where I will go."

Miroku nodded briskly, his back still turned to her, and walked back into the house. Sango stood outside for a moment longer, studying the placid landscape around her, and wondering at the tension she had seen in Miroku at her question.

Ichimu


	16. Killing Fear

Disclaimer: Does this even make sense? I think there should be a universal disclaimer for all of I mean, we're writing on a _fanfiction_ site, do you _think_ we own this stuff? Of course not. I don't own Inuyasha. In face the only thing I own that's of any real value (besides personal value) is by computer and even this is a sorry piece of crap.

Author's Note: Wow.

I think I went through 8 drafts of this chapter. And this draft that I'm actually posting took me about 20 minutes to write and another 5 to type. Why do all these ridiculous things happen to me? Well, I REALLY didn't want this to take as long as it turned out to be, honest. I tried time and again to get a decent issue of this chapter on my computer, but until now I've been unsuccessful. So, please forgive me. If I were to be pulling this story out of butt, you'd have much faster results, but the quality of those results would most definitely leave something to be desired.

So, patience is always appreciated, as are reviews. Thank you to everyone who has stuck with me thus far.

And, I'm making my conformation on Saturday! YAY! - Thought I'd share that with you guys, in case anyone cares, 'cause I sure do.

Well, story time now!

__

Chapter 16, Killing Fear

Miroku did not sleep that night. He lay awake on his futon and stared at the ceiling, vainly attempting to collect and organize his thoughts. Inside, he was a jumble of emotions that writhed in silent anguish, each fighting with the other. Yet the greatest among them was one that Miroku shied from like a peasant from the plague. It dug into his wounds and ripped them open with its steely claws. I hissed and spat and drew the darkness and silence in around Miroku. It was fear; voiceless, bodiless, yet bearing so many faces that flickered endlessly behind Miroku's eyelids.

Somewhere in the black stillness of his impossibly small world, Jou moaned and rolled over. It was a deafening infringement on the silence. Miroku shuddered and then let a heavy sigh collapse his chest. He grabbed Kyoden's sword from were it lay beside his bed and rose, securing the scabbard to his plain white kimono. His eyes swept over the room and then he entered into the night.

(-)

The river gurgled in cheerful opposition of Miroku's feelings. He sat beside it, cradled by the trunk of a spreading willow. Kyoden's sword was settled on the grass before him, unsheathed and gleaming in the fickle moonlight. His head was settled on his chest, which rose and fell with his gathered breaths. His eyes were closed; he was within himself.

With slow and painful precision, Miroku assembled his fears before him. Sweat formed a fine layer on his forehead. Then, he was ready. He rose, bringing Kyoden's sword up with a violent thrust. The image of his father shimmered brightly and shattered. He continued, cutting down his fears singularly and in clusters.

All at once, he drew up short. Sweat pooled and slid down his back and chest, soaking his kimono. His breathing was heavy, and his face was lowered to the ground. He did not have to raise it to know the fear that stood before him; it was his Kazaana, sealed away by the prayer beads. Miroku braced himself, preparing for the instant that his personified fear would unleash its mysterious power.

Time passed, and nothing happened.

Miroku looked up, confused. His Kazaana still inhabited the air in front of him, but the hand, an image of his own, was black. Miroku's eyes widened as the blackness spread, forming the rest of his image.

The image completed. Miroku gaped, frozen to the spot by awe, his stomach twisting treacherously. He was staring at an image of himself, only he had changed. He was as black as the night that rested around Miroku, poisoned by evil. His eyes were black and soulless. Bloodlust and maliciousness poured off the image in waves. He was a monster that knew nothing by death and destruction, Miroku realized in horror. And then, as if to emphasize Miroku's thoughts, the dark image of him raised his hands and, with a single touch, shattered the string of prayer beads that sealed away his Kazaana.

"No" Miroku whispered. His voice sounded harsh in his ears.

The image of him smiled wickedly, turning the cursed wind tunnel toward Miroku.

"No," Miroku said, with more strength. And then, a strange sort of power welled up with him, as though a fountain had just been brought to life. Miroku embraced the power, and pulled it toward him like a lover, recognizing the purity of the power. He couldn't understand its source, and as it grew around him, his entire world faded to white. "NO! I will never become that monster!" Miroku closed his eyes, and lost all sense of himself.

(-)

Scarlet's icy eyes snapped open. Something was wrong. She slipped silently from her futon. Yu, Jou's sister, was already awake. She sat up in her futon across the room from Scarlet, her dark eyes alert. She met Scarlet's gaze and nodded. "Go," she mouthed. Scarlet didn't need to be told twice. She was on her feet and out the door in moments.

Almost immediately, she ran into Sango. The princess was standing in the main doorway, strapping a dangerous-looking blade to her wrist. She looked up as Scarlet drew near, and a mirthless smile spread across her face. "So, you noticed it too," she whispered.

Scarlet nodded. "Where's Miroku-sama?" she asked softly.

Sango shook her head. "He's gone."

Scarlet frowned. "Let's go," she beckoned, moving past Sango to the world beyond. She moved with absolute silence through the foliage, ignoring the twigs that snapped at her limbs and face, opening small wounds. Sango followed behind, just as silent if only a bit more choosy in her path taking. They maneuvered and stalked like sister panthers through the night, relying on their keen sixth sense to guide them to where they had to go.

Suddenly, Sango raised her hand to bring them to a halt. Scarlet stopped immediately, turning to the princess. Her eyes were darting through the trees, predator-like in the moonlight. "There's something out there," she said in a hushed voice.

"We don't have time," Scarlet scoffed. "We have to find whatever's causing this disturbance." Turning away, she prepared to move forward once again.

Sango hand snapped out and grabbed her arm, turning her back around. "No," Sango whispered. "This is what we're looking for."

Scarlet frowned to express her doubts, but there was a strange sort of resolve on Sango's face. There was resolve, determination, and, Scarlet sensed, a bit of fear. The older woman nodded briskly. "Lead the way."

(-)

When he regained a sense of what he was about, the world reeled back to the riverbank. Miroku was lying down, his head resting on something soft. He could hear the stream as it bubbled through the rocks.

There was a soft touch on his cheek and a feminine voice whispered, "Houshi-sama?"

Miroku let his eyes flutter open and met Sango's mahogany gaze.

Sango sighed in relief, the smile that followed lighting up Miroku's world as no ray of sunlight ever could. "You're alright, " she said softly. "Thank kami-sama."

Miroku nodded and looked around. Kyoden's sword was a comfortable weight in his palm. It did not seem much later than it had been when he had been confronted with the evil image of himself. The evil image was gone. "When did you find me?" Miroku asked.

"I followed you," Sango admitted, a slight blush springing up on her cheeks. Miroku frowned in response, it could be that he was slipping, but he hadn't heard the princess's pursuit.

Sango reached up and fiddled with a strand of her long mahogany hair, momentarily distracting him from his thoughts. She seemed timid and coy this night. "I wanted to talk to you."

"What about?" Miroku asked. He wasn't quite ready to lift his head from Sango's lap, as he was still disoriented, but her fragrance was overpowering and was causing Miroku to feel bolder than he should, so he sat up. She met his gaze, and he flashed her one of his best lady-killer smiles.

"Houshi-sama" Sango began, but then she stopped herself. When she started again, there was renewed confidence in her voice. "Miroku-" Here, Miroku allowed his eyes to widen. What had she just called him? "-how do you feel about me?"

Miroku's heart leapt into his throat. "W-What?" he stuttered, disoriented by the suddenness of her question.

Sango leaned in closer. Her fragrance assaulted Miroku's senses, making his feeling lightheaded and increasingly more befuddled. Their proximity was intoxicating, and Miroku would have given the world to have her for his right then and there. "I asked, how do you feel about me?"

Wait, Miroku said to himself, catching up on his last thought. He would give the world to have Sango? His home, his mother, his soul?

That frightened him.

A sudden burst of laughter brought his eyes back to her face. "Mute tonight?" she teased. "Well, maybe it will help if I answer first." She leaned in close, closer, closest. Her body was pressed against his and her arms slipped around his ribcage to accommodate her weight. With a blush on her cheeks, she raised her eyes to his. Their gaze met, and for a dangerous moment, Miroku almost kissed her. But the unexpected happened, stopping him.

Their lips locked in a hard kiss as Sango pushed her mouth against his. There was an instant of stunned euphoria, and then realization flooded Miroku like a bitter medicine. His heart constricted within his chest. He closed his eyes against his emotions and then gripped Kyoden's sword. He pulled away from Sango then, recoiling as though he had been burnt.

The blade of Kyoden's sword protruded from Sango's chest.

Ichimu

Please review!


	17. The Signs of Power

Disclaimer: Never owned it, never will.

Author's Note: Well, I suppose you all deserve an explanation, and here it is, plain and simple: my grandfather died, I had make-up homework, and then I had to study for finals. I still should be studying, but now that things have calmed down a bit at my house, I can actually sit down for five minutes without someone breaking out in tears.

AHHHH! They changed the formatting for ff . net! I'm so lost…

Translations:

Mou (moh) – an expression of agitation

Shinai (shee-nay) – a practice sword, usually constructed of bound bamboo fibers.

Chapter 17, The Signs of Power 

Scarlet was trying her best to calm her breath against the racing of her heart; if she didn't, Miroku would certainly hear her. Twice already, she was sure they would be caught when Sango had fidgeted. Sango looked to the princess again. She was sitting perfectly still, her eyes focused unblinkingly on Miroku. Scarlet wondered at what Sango was seeing.

'Can she see what I do?'

'No,' she answered herself immediately. If Sango had seen what Scarlet was witnessing, she would be out of the bushes in a heartbeat. No, Scarlet was alone in this. She turned his icy blue eyes back to Miroku. He too was sitting still, his eyes locked on those of the image in front of him, the image that bore Sango's face. Everything about him was tension.

When they had arrived seconds ago, Scarlet had watched Miroku drive his katana through Sango's heart. Of course, it was nothing but Sango's image, but the picture of that moment haunted her relentlessly. She pushed it away, telling herself that she would deal with it later at an appropriate time.

Scarlet bit her lip in anxiety. It was impossible to make out what Miroku and the image were saying, but Scarlet could guess that there was something that Sango's image wanted badly. And Miroku was reluctant to give it to her for some reason or another. As soon as she had taken in the scene, Scarlet had known what Miroku was doing. He had assembled his fears before him, an old trick of those with some measure of spiritual power.

"Sango," she breathed.

The princess turned to her, her dark eyes sharp.

"I'm not sure exactly what Miroku is doing, but I'm pretty sure he's going to need our help," Scarlet advised, her voice just above a whisper. "When I give the signal, I want you to run with all your power and grab Miroku."

Confusion spread across the princess's face like dawn's light across the night sky. "Grab?"

"Yes," Scarlet said with a nod. "Grab. Miroku could be in very serious trouble." 'Without even knowing it', she added mentally, but said nothing more to Sango. Sango nodded and turned away again.

(-)

Miroku clenched and unclenched his hands, glaring darkly at the hilt of the katana as it stuck out of Sango's chest. He fought to keep his emotions in check, to keep from screaming in rage, to keep from ripping the blade right through her chest. The grinding of his teeth made a hollow noise in his head.

'Make it stop', he screamed silently. 'Make all this stop!'

He embraced the first memory that came to his mind, wrapping it around him like a protective shield, shutting him away from the world. It was a small memory, full of color. He and Kyoden were in the gardens, young boys both. Kyoden was laughing at him because, as usual, Miroku was messing up with his shinai training.

"You're holding it wrong!" Kyoden was roaring with laughter, pointing uncharitably at his brother's obvious mistake. Miroku was bright red, and furiously began to fix the problem. He had been holding it with his hands together again, instead of keeping his hands on either ends of the hilt.

He fixed the problem, but Kyoden was still chucking. "You'll never become a swordsman if you can't even hold your shinai! Mou, Miroku, you won't be able to kill a fly!"

Miroku quickly discarded the memory, shutting out the sunshine and brightness of the flowers, and even more the feeling of utmost humiliation.

"Mi-Miroku…" The image of Sango that knelt on the grass before him shimmered. Miroku felt his stomach roll, and reached up to wipe the kiss it had given him decisively from his lips. It should have meant nothing to him that the image had kissed him, but it couldn't. It was an image of Sango, and that memory couldn't be so effortlessly cast aside.

Especially because it was what he had wanted.

'NO!' Miroku thought ferociously, looking away. He wouldn't allow that. He wouldn't lose his will power so easily. He would hold strong against the useless feelings that welled up inside of him and consumed his heart. Useless, yes; what could he do with such silly feelings?

What did he have to offer to a girl like Sango?

"Miroku," the image whispered, consolidating again. "Try not to be dumb. You and I both know that I can't be gotten rid of so easily." It reached down and drew the sword out of its chest. "You must _face _your fears."

Miroku looked back at the image of Sango. His heart felt like a lump of lead in his chest. Something stirred in the brush off to his left, but he ignored it. "I know," he whispered hoarsely.

"Well? Tell me what you are afraid of."

Miroku swallowed against the desert in his throat. It was funny that he would be so wet everywhere but there. There was sweat all down his neck and back, collecting in pools at his palms, and resting in a fine layer against his face. He knew what he had to do, but he wasn't ready to do so yet.

Again, the brush to his left stirred. Miroku cocked his eyebrow, but disregarded the movement as that of a nocturnal hunter, closing in on its prey. Miroku felt a sudden kinship to that same prey.

The image reached out and took Miroku's hand, calling his eyes back to its own. Miroku noted that the place where Kyoden's sword should have left a gaping hold was healed over. "Miroku," the image whispered imploringly.

Miroku found himself wondering suddenly if the real Sango would ever call him that… if she would ever discover the truth of his identity. How would she respond to having been lied to all this time? Should he tell her? How would it change their relationship? He pushed the thoughts away. 'Enough unanswerable questions', he growled in his mind.

"Miroku, tell me."

He closed his eyes tightly, and another memory began to unfold behind his eyelids.

"Get up, boy," a voice called harshly.

Miroku had taking his riding lesson, and had fallen from his horse. Since he was only six and rather puny for his age, his horse had failed to see him and had mistakenly put its foot down on Miroku's. Miroku had blacked out momentarily from the pain. Now, he looked up into his father's face. "Chichiwe…" he breathed, terrified.

Kyoden was at his side at once, helping him to regain his feet. "Come on, Miroku," he said gently, brushing the dirt off the front of his little brother's gi. "You're not hurt badly, are you?"

Miroku tried to put weight on his injured foot, only to be met with searing pain. He thought he was going to black out again, but he only fell over face-first into the dirt. Kyoden leaned down and grabbed his arm to help him up, but their father's hand came up and caught Kyoden across the face in a sound slap. Kyoden stumbled back, clutching his face.

"He'll get up on his own or he won't get up at all!" Takara Bairei roared. His lined face was dark with fury, his black eyes sparkling.

Kyoden shrunk back, still holding his now-swelling cheek. He managed a swift bow to his father, and then gave Miroku a meaningful glance.

Miroku trembled and pushed himself off the ground. He gave a cry and collapsed from exhaustion. He looked at his father again, and was met with a sharp kick in his ribs. Miroku rolled across the ground.

"What have I told you, boy!" Takara Bairei shrieked, his voice filling the palace grounds. "You are _never_ to look at me with those eyes. Now, get on your feet, you worthless filth!"

Miroku set his jaw, fighting against the tears that were building his eyes and the pain that was burning in his ankle. He pushed himself slowly to his knees, shakily and slowly. Her gasped for air, and then held his breath as he rose onto one leg and then the other. With his eyes set, he turned to his father and looked him in the eyes.

Takara Bairei watched his youngest son with cold wonder, and then turned his back on him. He stomped away toward the palace without another word.

Miroku bit his lip and shoved that memory aside. That wasn't one he wanted to remember ever again. It had taken him two weeks to recover from that wound, but the one that ran through his heart had never healed.

Miroku opened his eyes and looked at Sango's image.

She looked back, and he thought of the first time he had ever seen Sango, bloodied and half-frozen on the road connecting their kingdoms. She had been so frail then, and so in pain. He hadn't felt this was about her then; she had been no more than his charge. He sorted through his memories of them, and tried to find the defining moment of their relationship. It was like trying to pin a wave to the sand.

He shook his head. Something was wrong. There was a rock in his stomach, and he couldn't find the words to speak. He tried to begin, but sudden nausea sprung up inside of him, shaking him badly. He blinked back the darkness that filmed over his vision. He corrected himself and tried again, but this time he was nearly doubled over as an invisible punch winded him. His head was reeling. And then, he blacked out.

(-)

"Now!" Scarlet hissed.

Sango was out of the brush at once, streaking across the clearing like a lightening bolt. Scarlet was right behind her, the thunderclap. She reached into her robes and found her small pouch. It wasn't much, but she hadn't expected anything of this nature to happen.

Then Sango was there, her arms wrapped around Miroku's holding him fast. The self-appointed houshi was out cold, having blacked out immediately upon trying to conquer his fear.

Scarlet reached into her pouch and collected the fine silver powder into her hand. She stopped in front of Miroku, facing the image of Sango.

The image looked at her coldly, indifferently. "What do you plan to do?" she said with a frown.

But Scarlet was already acting. She poured her power into her hand, and the powder caught fire. "Leave now." She flung it at the image with all her might, and it dispersed with a howl of agony, the flames dying with it.

Scarlet relaxed her body with a heavy sigh.

"Scarlet…" Sango breathed. "What just happened?"

"Never you mind, princess," Scarlet said with a smile, looking back at Sango's anxious face. She turned herself, placed the powder back in its spot in her kimono, and walked over to where Sango and Miroku waited.

She checked Miroku's pulse quickly, found it healthy if not a bit fast, and then moved to the river. "Bring him over here," she instructed Sango. The princess did as she was told, dragging Miroku to the waterside.

Scarlet cupped a bit of water into her hands and threw it onto Miroku's face. The houshi jerked awake, his amethyst eyes still unclear as they tried to take in the scene. Scarlet leaned over and touched his face. "You're alright, Miroku."

Miroku looked up at Sango. "Sango…" he whispered, his voice hoarse. Sango offered a small smile of relief. Scarlet watched them for a moment, and then summoned a small amount of her power into her fingertips. Miroku blinked against the sudden fatigue Scarlet poured into him through her fingers, and then he was asleep.

Sango stared at Scarlet. "What was that?"

Scarlet gave a cold, discerning glance. "I don't know what you're talking about. Miroku-sama was just tired. He felt asleep," she kept emotion out of her voice, nervous that it would give her away.

Sango shook her head. "No, you did something just now. Houshi-sama was completely conscious, and then…" she paused, her brow furrowing. "Something happened between your fingertips and his cheek."

Scarlet raised an eyebrow. Could she have seen? Was Sango that perceptive? Sudden panic gripped her. If that was true, did she know of Scarlet's identity? "Nothing happened. You were obviously imagining things."

The princess's lips thinned, and her eyes narrowed. "No, I-"

"Scarlet-sama!" a soft voice said suddenly from behind them. Scarlet looked up and her eyes connected with Yu. Jou stood behind her, his sword ready. Yu looked concerned and confused, but Scarlet didn't believe it for a second. Yu was far too perceptive, and her timing was too perfect. The woman's dark eyes were unreadable, but as she ran toward Scarlet, the look she flashed Scarlet told her to be more cautious in the future. Scarlet nodded and smiled gratefully.

"We have to get him back to the hut," Yu said, moving Miroku to pick him up.

"Ah!" Sango exclaimed, holding up her hand. Yu stopped and looked at her questioningly. "Do you want some help?"

"Not necessary," Yu replied, plucking Miroku off the ground as if he were no more than a leaf. She looked at Scarlet once more. "I'll bring him to the hut. Meet me there." And then she was gone, sprinting toward the house.

Scarlet looked at Sango and found her open-mouthed and gaping. She chuckled softly to herself, and then trotted up the hill to meet Jou.

Ichimu


	18. A Web of Lies

Disclaimer: I've never owned Inuyasha, and I never will.

Author's Note: AHHHH! I'm such a bad authoress! Bad, bad Ichimu. I really don't get it. How can you guys stand me? Really, I'm so bad! GOMEN NASAI! I didn't mean to make you wait for forever for this chapter, but things have been coming up, meaning rehearsals. I'm playing Cinderella in a production of Into the Woods, and we only have like three weeks to pull of this show, so I'm dying. I come home from rehearsal, and all I do is practice, it's insanity, and it's consuming my life!

Anyway, to make up for it, this chapter is unusually long. I'm sorry if there are type-o's, but I'm just way too exhausted to check for any. This chapter isn't half as good as I was hoping it would be, but I hope you'll enjoy it.

I'm not making any promises, but I hope to have the next chapter up before the sixteenth.

Now, enjoy! (or don't, that's ok too.) Just please remember to review!

Translations:

Baka (bah-kah): Stupid

Ee(eh): Feminine yes

Iie(ee-yeh): No

Mou (moh): An expression of exasperation

Nani (na-nee): What?

Sumimasen (su-mee-mah-sehn): Excuse me/ I'm sorry

Chapter 18, A Web of Lies 

It was disturbing, really. Scarlet could find no other word for it. How could she have let this happen? It made her feel dumb, made her feel as though her mistress's work had been for nothing…

'No!' Scarlet said silently, pushing her thoughts away. She had worked too hard and for too long to permit that kind of thinking. She couldn't let herself get depressed, couldn't lose her edge. She would just have to be more careful in the future, she decided. That was all there was to it…

Or was it? She had performed an act she never would have normally committed, just to keep the oji and hime safe. True, it had long ago been-

She cut off her thoughts and looked up. She was sitting on the porch of the old shrine, her back against the splintered wood. Rain fell steadily beyond the cover of the porch, trailing down the dirt path, carrying small twigs and crumbled leaves with it. The building had collapsed many decades ago, but the porch had somehow remained mostly intact. There was a violent history surrounding it, but despite it, Scarlet had always found a measure of peace here, especially when it rained. There was stillness and solidity here that she found nowhere else.

Scarlet let her hand slip into her kimono. Her fingers ran over the fiery phoenix that had been tattooed on her chest. 'A strange birthmark,' they had said. Scarlet smiled bitterly; if only they had known…

A sudden crunch of earth on the trail caused Scarlet to look up. Sango was there, her countenance mild. Scarlet blinked at her and quickly brought her hand up in mute greeting. Sango nodded in return, and then approached. The princess was still dressed in her magenta-checkered kosode and green apron. Her wakizashi was clipped to her waist. Sango took a seat across from Scarlet, and wrung out her mahogany locks. "Yu said you would be here," Sango explained after a moment.

"That so," Scarlet mused, looking back across the barren landscape. She suddenly wished it was spring, and pulled her kimono tighter around her.

"It's pretty here."

"Ee."

"Scarlet…-chan."

Scarlet started and looked up at the princess, her icy eyes wide.

Sango flushed and looked at her hands, which she had folded neatly in her palm. "Sumimasen…" she muttered.

"Iie," Scarlet said immediately, a small smile brightening her face. Sango looked up in surprise. "You can call me Scarlet-chan, if you want. We should by now, shouldn't we?"

Sango smiled in response. "Mm. And you can call me Sango-chan…that is, if you want to."

A pregnant pause followed, and their smiles faded into the bleak morning.

"Houshi-sama is awake," Sango said softly, shifting her position.

"That's good news," Scarlet replied.

Another pause followed, and Scarlet felt the weight of it crush her. Sometimes more meaning could be found in the pauses than in the conversation. This time, although Sango's pleasantness hinted at nothing of the sort, Scarlet knew by the pauses that Sango had come to ask Scarlet something she wasn't comfortable asking…and Scarlet had a pretty good idea what that something might be.

"I wanted to ask you something…" Sango started, her intense mahogany gaze moving from Scarlet face to the ground. Here it comes, Scarlet thought, biting her lip. Sango looked at Scarlet again, and there was renewed determination in her eyes. "What was it that you did to houshi-sama last night?"

Scarlet's stomach knotted, and her face tightened with distress. Sango saw the effects of her question, but did not back down from it. Scarlet would have to have an answer for her. But what to tell her? There was a web of lies surrounding the princess already in concern to so many important details. Should Scarlet become one of those details? Could she face having to lie to Sango again and again? Or did she tell Sango the truth and risk what knowing it might mean to the princess?

Or maybe she could provide just a colored truth?

"I learned it from my mistress," Scarlet answered. "I put some salve onto my fingers. Combined with heat, it can be used as a sleeping aid. Because Miroku was already fatigued, he fell right to sleep." The surprise that crossed Sango's face caused Scarlet to don a bitter inner smile. 'Surprised now, hime?' she thought darkly. 'Wait until you hear the whole truth.'

Despite her surprise, Sango seemed satisfied with Scarlet's answer. She looked back down the path toward the hut. "What about Yu? How did she pick up houshi-sama so easily?"

Scarlet chuckled suddenly, and Sango started in response. "Sumimasen," Scarlet apologized, covering her mouth with her hands. "Of course you wouldn't know anything about that. Well, each of the Chiba siblings has their own specialty, don't they? Although blind, Jou is the most skilled swordsman I have ever met. Ton can soar through the trees like a monkey, and move with startling speed. Yu, meanwhile, possess an incredible and unreal amount of strength."

"What are they?" Sango asked, her mouth hanging open.

"A talented family," Scarlet lied with a shrug.

Sango frowned, as if detecting Scarlet's lie, and hugged her knees to her chest. "How did you become involved with them?" she asked.

Scarlet pursed her lips. As the saying went, one lie really did breathe another, even if they were only half-lies. "My mistress took them in when I was still a young girl. They had been ostracized from their village because of their unusual talents. This was after Jou was kicked out of the army and their parents died in a plague."

Sango shook her head in mild astonishment. "And they've stayed with you ever since?"

"We became fast friends," Scarlet said, thinking back to the actual situation. Yu had despised her openly, Jou had kept his loathing quieter, and Ton had greatly mistrusted her. Of course, she reminded herself quickly, none of that had been without reason. "They came with me when my mistress…died."

There was another silence, and then Sango stood. She brushed her hands on her olive green apron and then offered her hand to Scarlet. "Let's go," she said with a smile. "We have to leave now if we want to make it to the Takara kingdom in good time!"

Scarlet started at her hand in surprise, and then reached up to accept Sango's hand with a smile of her own. They had walked halfway down the trail together when Scarlet stopped. "Ne, Sango-chan…" she said softly.

Sango looked at her. "Nani?"

"I just wanted to say that I'm sorry for what I said to you the first time we met. That maidens-in-distress comment," Scarlet said, pushing a crimson-tinted lock behind her ear. "I was clearly mistaken. You're perfectly capable of handling yourself, aren't you?"

Sango blinked and then smiled. "And I'm sorry I called you a whore and a coward." She squeezed Scarlet's hand. "You're not too shabby of a survivor either."

They smiled warmly at one another before continuing on toward the hut.

(-)

"Sango, I'm hungry," Miroku moaned for the five-hundredth time.

Sango rolled her eyes and shook her head. "I told you already, houshi-sama, we'll stop to eat at noon."

Miroku whimpered loudly. "But that's so far away!"

"That's because it isn't anywhere near lunchtime yet. Mou, houshi-sama, it's still morning!" Sango pressed, her temper rising.

"I'm hungry, too!" Jou and Ton chorused, turning toward Sango.

"Well, I'm not putting the food pack down until noon, so you'll just have to deal with it, you crybabies!" Sango snapped, lifting her chin indignantly.

Scarlet and Yu chuckled as they watched the scene.

"Please, Sango!" Miroku pleaded, throwing himself at Sango's feet. Sango jumped in surprise at the gesture and then quickly skirted around the starving prince. Miroku grabbed her ankle.

"S-stop!" Sango ordered, shaking her ankle to free it from Miroku's grasp.

The party of six was walking along the highroad out of the northland to the Takara kingdom. They had been walking since dawn and now the sun was out, traveling slowly along its pathway through the sky. Snow lingered in patches amongst the rice patties and villages the group passed, but the day was warm and pleasant. Birds sang in the trees and small animals moved through the brush.

"Yare yare!" a voice called suddenly from above. "It isn't even spring yet and already we have two lovebirds."

Sango froze, her eyes widening. Miroku jumped to his feet, turning his face to the sound. Jou, Ton, and Yu instantly moved into a defensive circle around Scarlet. Sango saw the youkai first, his silver body coiled around a tree limb high overhead. "Ginmaru!" she shouted in horror.

Ginmaru dropped from the leafless boughs to the road with the grace and ease of a dancer. He straightened, his black eyes flashing. "Konnichiwa, Sango-san, houshi." He turned, surveying the couple's companions. "I see you've acquired some friends since last we met." Tipping his head, he muttered, "Scarlet-san, so nice to see you again."

Scarlet bristled but said nothing in response. Jou and Ton moved in front of her, prepared to defend her from Ginmaru, but she pushed through their arms. Yu watched quietly, her dark eyes revealing nothing of her thoughts. Miroku drew Kyoden's katana from its sheath. Holding the weapon before him, he squared off his shoulders and glared darkly at Ginmaru. "Are you here for a rematch, Ginmaru?" Miroku asked, reaching out to pull Sango behind him.

Ginmaru arched one eyebrow. "Yare yare, houshi. Let's have some patience, shall we? There's someone we're waiting for. Then we can fight all you want."

"Who?" Miroku demanded, tightening his grip on Kyoden's katana. "Naraku?"

Ginmaru blinked, and then his mouth parted to allow a long series of guffawing to come out. "Naraku? No! No, you baka houshi! Why would Naraku waste his time on the likes of you?" He reached up to wipe tears of mirth from his eyes, his laughter subsiding. "No, Naraku is already on his way to the Takara kingdom."

"I'm the one he's waiting for," a cold voice from behind declared.

The members of the small company whirled, and there was Ezakiya Ryudaisetsu, his golden eyes flashing hungrily as he settled to the earth. Behind him, a swarm of youkai covered the sky and moved to block out the late morning sunlight. "Konnichiwa, minna," he cooed, looking from Sango to Scarlet.

Miroku frowned and narrowed his eyes, bracing himself to withstand an attack from both sides, but Scarlet was already moving. He saw her out of the corner of his eye, her hands flying in furious motion. When he turned to her, he saw that she was exercising a series of complex seals, her icy eyes focused on Ryudaisetsu. Ginmaru noticed as well and called out in warning, but Scarlet had already finished her seal.

There was a flash of blinding light, and then everything went still. Ryudaisetsu was standing stiff and erect, his eyes burning with fury. He opened his mouth to summon a counterattack through the power of his words, but nothing came out. He paled in astonishment. No one moved; everyone was watching Scarlet and Ryudaisetsu. Furious now, Ryudaisetsu attempted to change back into his dragon form, but all he managed was to grow horns and blue scales. He could not complete the transformation. Scarlet smirked and then collapsed.

The battle began.

It happened so fast that Miroku didn't have a chance to blink before Ginmaru was on him, slashing at his chest with his steel arm. Miroku stumbled back, bringing his shakujou up to halt the youkai's advance. Then Sango was on her feet, rushing at Ginmaru with her wakizashi poised over her head.

Ginmaru dodged easily, and his hand whipped out to knock the wakizashi from Sango's hands. The blade went flying through the air to settle in the moist ground on the other side of the road. Sango leapt away, reaching for her pouch of poison powders.

Miroku ran at Ginmaru and the two of them met in a flash of sparks as their blades came up. Miroku quickly pushed the youkai away with a kick to his stomach. Sango was there to meet him, and tossed a handful of the poison powder across the youkai's back.

Ginmaru howled in pain and whirled around, bringing his steel arm up in an attempt to slice open the princess's stomach. Sango bit her lip and flipped back, out of the way of the deadly limb. Ginmaru sneered in response, his black eyes sparkling with checked fury. Landing softly in the snow, Sango went to work. She pulled her hair up into a high ponytail and took her Hiraikotsu from her back. Then, with the speed of a hawk, she dove at Ginmaru.

The youkai sidestepped, easily avoiding the blow. Miroku was there, however, and brought his shakujou around roughly to catch Ginmaru in the stomach. The youkai doubled over the holy rod and then went flying across the road into a grove of trees. There was a deadening crash as he made contact with an oak, a cloud of dust and splinters, and then it all went still.

Miroku ran up beside Sango. The princess glanced at him, a fervent flash of mahogany glory, and then took position. They stood back to back, facing out against the onslaught of youkai.

Yu, Jou, and Ton were already fighting. Ton was swinging through the youkai's ranks, throwing kunai knives left and right. Jou, meanwhile, was working through the hoards, slashing with his sword with the skill of a legend. Yu was picking up the larger youkai that Jou had felled, and using their huge forms to crush other smaller youkai. Scarlet was unconscious, strapped to Yu's back with a makeshift harness.

Sango and Miroku exchanged a quick glance, and then moved to aid their allies.

Suddenly, there was a scream from the right flank. Miroku and Sango looked up, their eyes widening. It was Yu who had screamed. Miroku took off without a second thought to the matter, sprinting blindly through the youkai in the direction of the scream.

He pulled up short and struggled to take in the scene before him.

Ryudaisetsu was standing over Yu, his golden eyes flashing with triumph. A hideous chuckle was pouring off his smiling lips. Yu was clutching her ankle while trying to get to her feet, her eyes wide with horror. And in Ryudaisetsu's arms was Scarlet.

Yu whirled around, spotted Miroku, and screamed, "Save her!"

Miroku leapt forward, bringing up Kyoden's katana, but a sudden blow from the right sent him flying in the other direction. He hit the solid form of a youkai, causing his head to swim and his vision to blur badly. He shook his head, blinked a stream of blood out of his eyes, and pushed himself to his feet.

Ginmaru stood not six feet in front of him, cool triumph shining in his eyes. He was badly bruised, and scathed in several places, but other than that, he was unharmed. A smirk shone on his face, confident and sly. He started moving towards Miroku, his sword-arm rising.

Hiraikotsu swung into view, landing with force in between Miroku and the threatening silver youkai. Ginmaru jumped back, and both he and Miroku turned to see Sango advancing, her wakizashi shining in her hand. "Get away from him!" she ordered Ginmaru.

Ginmaru for a moment lost his composure and bristled, his lip curling to reveals his rows of pointed teeth. But then he was back to his usual self, and a small smile appeared on his face. "With pleasure, hime." He raised his steel arm and rushed at Sango.

The princess was so surprised and halted so suddenly that she lost her balance and fell over. "Sango!" Miroku shouted in warning, already moving to stop Ginmaru. 'It's too late!' he thought in dismay. 'I won't catch him in time.'

Sango gasped and closed her eyes tightly as Ginmaru brought his sword up from the kill. But instead of being severed in two, a second later she found she was quite whole, flying through the air. She thought for a moment that it was Miroku who had saved her, but looking up, she saw Ton's boyish face. "Ton!" she gasped.

The boy looked at her and smiled. Then they were on the ground, and Miroku was there, helping Sango to her feet. He was scolding her, but she wasn't paying attention. Ton stood idly by, looking at the ground.

"Ton," Miroku said suddenly. The boy looked up at him. "Your sister is over there." He pointed in the directed her was speaking of. "Ryudaisetsu has Scarlet."

Ton went immediately pale. "What!" he said in disbelief.

"Hurry," Miroku urged. "We'll be there as soon as we can."

Ton was gone in blur of sound and color, flying to his sister's aid.

"Yare yare," a familiar voice chided. "Don't make promises you can't keep, houshi."

Miroku whirled around, catching Ginmaru's arm with his shakujou just inches above his face. He looked back at Sango. "Sango," he shouted. "Go help Scarlet!"

"But!" Sango protested.

"_Go_!"

Sango frowned, furrowed her brow, and then took off after Ton. Miroku sighed in relief, and turned towards Ginmaru. The youkai was smiling nastily. "That was a brave move, boy, but also very stupid. It's obvious that she means a lot to you." His smile grew. "When I capture her, I'll make sure you get front row seating to her impending torture."

"That won't happen," Miroku said with a determined frown. He pushed Ginmaru's arm away, and straightened his proud frame. "Our battle ends here, Ginmaru."

(-)

When Sango arrived on the scene, Yu had already regained her footing, and was fighting ferociously alongside Ton. Ryudaisetsu, although Scarlet had sealed his voice and morphing ability, was winning. Yu kept slipping and stumbling, a result of the pain caused by her ankle. Ton could not move fast enough to avoid Ryudaisetsu's fierce attacks. Ryudaisetsu was fighting by forming balls of youki in his throat and spitting them out at the battling siblings. Sango set her jaw and moved into the scene.

Ryudaisetsu looked up as she approached and smiled hideously. He wasted no time sending a ball of blue-tinted youki in her direction, and she swerved to miss it. However, Ryudaisetsu's shot had been swift and accurate, and it still caught the princess on the left shoulder. Sango twisted her face in pain and rolled away.

Yu jumped up to cover her momentarily, throwing a log at Ryudaisetsu's frame. The clever dragon creature brought Scarlet's body up, and allowed the woman to take the force of the blow on her shoulder. The woman shivered, but did not regain consciousness.

Sango reclaimed her feet and watched in depression as Ryudaisetsu knocked Ton to the ground his a sound slap. "We…we can't win like this," she realized.

Immediately, she was ashamed with herself. She straightened, pouted in determination, and thought, 'That's not right! I'm the princess of the Kawate kingdom! If I give up hope, then how can I help the people of my kingdom?' She took a step forward, her dark eyes shining. "I have to win!"

Yu looked around at her statement, and nodded. "Yes, Sango, we have no choice, do we?"

Sango nodded and darted forward, thinking back to all the times she had fought youkai before. What was wrong with her? she wondered. She wasn't weak, then why had she been acting so weak? Needing houshi-sama to protect her was absolutely unforgivable. And how many times had he risked his life for her? Sango shook her head, clearing it of those related thoughts. She would revisit them later. Now, she had to concentrate on the battle.

Sango reached into her pouches for a handful of exterminating powder, and chucked it at Ryudaisetsu. The powder caught him in the eyes and caused him to howl in mute agony. While he was stunned, Ton threw a dozen kunai knives at his feet, pinning him to the road. Yu grabbed his horns and pulled his head back, exposing his neck. Sango brought up her wakizashi and sliced at the demon's neck.

However, the scales that had grown there allowed only for a small slit to appear on the youkai's throat. Sango, Ton, and Yu leapt away from the creature, avoiding his violent thrashing.

The wild thrashing that occurred shook Scarlet awake. The woman blinked twice, took in the scene, and then raised her hands. They caught Ryudaisetsu on the thrat, just over where Sango had managed to cut him. The dragon went still at once, his golden eyes rolling wildly in his head until he found Scarlet. There was nothing less than terror shivering through him as he realized that Scarlet was awake. The woman tightened her grip, and once more Sango saw something strange pass from Scarlet's hands and into the dragon.

Ryudaisetsu burst into violet flames immediately. Yu jumped up, grabbed Scarlet, and leapt away from the burning dragon. He howled once, and then Ezakiya Ryudaisetsu was gone.

There was a moment in which no one moved, and then Scarlet freed herself from Yu's hold. She straightened her kimono, and fixed her crimson glowing hair. Sango watched her for a moment, and then her eyes fell on the ashes that marked the remains of Ryudaisetsu. "Wh-what was that?"

Scarlet looked at her, a frown on her lips. "It would be better for you to forget what just happened here, Sango…-chan," she said evenly.

Sango blinked in surprise. "What?"

"I said, you should forget what you just witnessed, Sango-chan. Nothing good can come of such knowledge."

Sango shook her head. "No." she said softly. Then, with more power, she continued. "No! Scarlet-chan, I've seen that before…that strange power flowing out of your hands. I saw it when you healed houshi-sama. You told me your mistress had taught it to you, that you put salve on your hands and used heat to create a sleeping aid. What about this time, when you set Ryudaisetsu on fire! Did you use another salve, another trick?"

Yu glanced at Scarlet, but Sango couldn't read her expression.

"I told you to forget it, princess!" Scarlet thundered, clenching her hands into fists at her sides.

Sango was taken aback by the woman's sudden anger, and her mouth fell open. "Sc-Scarlet-chan…" she breathed. "Won't you tell me? If something's bothering you, I can help…I _want_ to help. Please, Scarlet-chan, let me help you."

Scarlet looked away, her icy eyes troubled. "I can't…" she whispered.

Sango took a step forward, her hand rising to touch the older woman's shoulder, but Scarlet shied away. And then Ton was there, frowning at Sango. Sango started and backed up, surprise darting across her face. "Scarlet…" she whispered. Scarlet did not move. "Scarlet-chan!" Sango's voice was desperate now, pleading.

Scarlet shook her head and walked away. She did not look back.

- Ichimu


	19. Three Tales

Disclaimer: I do not own Sango, Miroku, Kohaku, or Naraku. I do, however, own every other facet of this story, so no stealing!

Author's Note: Well…that took longer than expected, but not as long as the other chapters. I didn't get any reviews on Chapter 18, which makes me think either everyone hated it, or no one knew that I reposted. I hope it's the latter, but it's probably the former. So please, before you read this chapter, go back and read the other one.

Well, here's Chapter 19. It's short, but I think you all will understand the story a little better after this, you know, fill in the blanks. .

Translations:

-dono (doh- noh): Honorific. This is even more respectful than –san. It is usually used to show the speaker's humility, but here, Arisa uses it sarcastically.

Kitsune and Inari (kit-soo - neh and ee-nah-ree): Kitsune are fox spirits. There are countless tales told about kitsune, in which they range from cute, compassionate beings to mischievous troublemakers. Usually, though, they are solitary beings with magical powers. The Fushimi Inari Shrine outside of Kyoto is dedicated to the god Inari (the god of rice), who the kitsune serve.

Oni (oh-nee): Ogre, usually portrayed as having horns. Oni are evil, and usually posses inhuman strength.

Chapter 19, Three Tales

A chilly wind descended upon the plain, bending the long grass like ripples in a vast body of water. A lone figure picked its way through the tall yellow stalks, head bent against the wind's battering. The figure wore a cloak the color of soot, which billowed out behind her despite her efforts to keep it close. A sudden stirring in the grasses to her right alerted the figure to another presence. She drew up short, her dark eyes scanning the twilit scene for an enemy. With stealthy movements, she reached behind her, procured an arrow from her quiver and nocked it on her graceful long bow. She held her bow at ready by her side, pouring a small amount into the arrowhead.

The grass in front of her parted, and beautiful kitsune stepped forward. Shee was in her youkai form, her silvery fur catching the grayish light and reflecting it with healthy splendor. Herr three tails –a token to her ancientness—shook agitatedly. Two deep blue eyes surveyed the figure in front of her before she said in a bell-like voice, "Good evening, miko."

The figure was obviously startled by this statement. She threw back her hood, revealing her own exquisite beauty. Her hair and quiet eyes were as black as ebony. Her thin, pale face was perfectly formed, as though carved from stone by a master. She turned her red lips down in a grimace as she stared at the kitsune. "How did you know that I'm a miko?"

The kitsune offered a toothy grin. "You have several more centuries of training to forego before you can fool an experienced youkai like myself." The kitsune reached down to lick a small cut on her right foreleg. "But I haven't come all this way to harass you, miko."

"Then why?" The miko asked, narrowing her eyes.

"Are you the famous miko, the one who is called Sanda Kioko? The one who slew the Great Oni of the North, as well as his brother with one arrow?"

The miko's frown deepened. "How did you learn my surname? I don't give that to youkai."

The kitsune grinned again. "Like I said, such feats are nothing for a talent like myself." She slid her uninjured paw forward and dipped her head in a kind of genuflecting "I am called Arisa."

"Pleasure," Kioko responded tartly. "Now, why have you sought me?"

"Word has it that you were headed towards a village that has recently been terrorized by Ezakiya Ryudaisetsu, the dragon of the Northern Range," Arisa reported, her eyes watching the women in front of her as if she were seeing right through her.

"That is correct."

"Then, it is my duty to tell you that said village has been destroyed."

Kioko gasped and for the first time since they had begun speaking, lowered her bow. "How long ago?"

"Three days; as soon as Ezakiya-dono heard of your intentions to seal him, he destroyed the village and retreated to the mountains." Arise ran her purple tongue over her small fangs in irritation. "Everyone was killed.

"Now, for the reason I've sought you out," Arisa continued. Her eyes darted to her paw. "That village was a favorite of mine. Every year, the villagers presented me with their five plumpest chickens. In return, I protected their homes. When Ezakiya-dono arrived, I warned the villagers and fled."

"How noble," Kioko sneered.

Arisa glared at her. "Youkai are not like humans, miko. When I know I'm outmatched, I run. Ezakiya Ryudaisetsu can control humans and most youkai with just a word. He has no power over kitsune, but I wasn't going to stick around and wait for him to order one of the villagers to kill me.

"Anyway, when Ezakiya-dono finally left, I returned to the village. This was two days later. It was a scene of carnage, not a living soul in sight. Children lay dead in their mothers' arms, their fathers' hands still closed around their necks. Lovers lay curled together, having been forced to stab one another. The houses were burned, the livestock escaped or were picked up by the dragon, who has a special love for horse meat. Just when I was about to leave, I spotted something."

"What?" asked Kioko, intrigued. She knelt on the ground in front of Arisa.

"An untouched chicken coop."

Kioko grimaced. "Honestly, you have a heart of gold."

The three tails shook angrily and the hair along Arisa's back stood on end. "Listen, miko. Any other youkai wouldn't have even bothered to return. I did so because I cared about the fate of the village. Even if it was a feeling rendered mostly because of food, it was a feeling. I did not feel sorrow at seeing the state of the village, but I will not admit to having felt nothing.

"I went to the chicken coop, but I found it devoid of chickens, a most displeasing observation. But as I turned toward the door, something moved in the straw. I stepped forward hoping to find a chicken. What I found was a young woman clutching a tiny bundle in her arms." Arisa shook herself here, dispelling her anger. "She was almost dead, a gash on her leg was badly infected."

Kioko blinked. "Well? What happened?"

"She looked at me and said, 'Arisa-sama, please…protect my daughter.' Then, she died. I took the bundle from her arms and found a tiny baby girl inside, barely two days old, most likely born just before the attack on the village." Arisa frowned darkly. "I had lingered too long. As I headed for the door, carrying the baby, the usual batch of youkai scavengers arrived. I fought them off, and was injured in the fighting. Then, I ran off to find you, knowing that the child would be safer with you than she could ever be with me."

Kioko smiled kindly, and was suddenly and strangely filled with admiration for the beautiful creature in front of her. "You protected the baby?"

Arisa ruffled her fur, murmured something unintelligible, and disappeared into the grasses. When she reemerged, there was a tiny bundle dangling from her mouth. She set it down at Kioko feet. Then, she flicked her gorgeous tales. "Miko, see these tail? A kitsune receives another one for each century it has lived. I have lived two centuries, and seen many things. But by Inari, I have never seen a tale unfold quite like this one. Take care of her, miko." With that, she turned and began to walk away.

"Wait!" Kioko called, collecting the sleeping child into her arms.

Arisa turned. "Yes?"

Kioko held the child forth. "Do you want to name her?"

Arisa blinked and frowned so gravely that for a moment Kioko thought she had insulted her. But then Arisa stepped forward and bowed her head over the child's. "Scarlet, so she will not forget the color her village was painted at her birth." Then she lowered her muzzle to the baby's forehead. There was a flash of light and then Arisa lifted her head away.

"What did you do?" Kioko asked. In all her years of training, she had never seen something quite like that…

Arisa shook her head and flashed Kioko a slightly bitter smile. "I think you of all people would recognize a blessing when you see you, miko." Then, she vanished into the surrounding grasses.

Kioko bent over the child and examined her. She found on the girl's chest the mark of a crimson phoenix. Kioko smiled softly and looked at the spot where Arisa had disappeared. "A kitsune's blessing, huh? Kitsune really are strange creatures." She stood, cradling the child, and headed home.

- Ichimu


	20. Holding It In

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the Inuyasha characters or terms mentioned in this here story. Thank you.

Author's Note: Alright. If you want to know why it took me so long, I've just got to say that I wrote this whole chapter at my sister's house, but in the rush to get going, I left it on her computer. So, all I had was a print-out of a few pages I'd written. So, I had to construct the whole chapter all over again. My apologies for the wait.

On a lighter note (and perhaps a bit sadder), I have now officially seen every single minute of every single Inuyasha episode (not including recaps). I hadn't seen episode 164 for the longest time, but now I have. And now that I have, I've seen them all. Ah, it is a bittersweet joy.

I hope you all enjoy this chapter. The Chapter Title was a b-tch to come up with.

Chapter 20, Holding It In 

Miroku hit the ground hard, the air rushing from his lungs. Ginmaru's follow-up attack missed by a hair's breadth as Miroku rolled out of the way, clutching his burning chest. He staggered to his feet and brought Kyoden's katana around quickly to fend Ginmaru off.

The youkai let out a low hiss and backed away.

They paused for a heartbeat, and then they were attacking again, sparks flying everywhere as Kyoden's katana and Ginmaru's arm met. The battle had been raging for a long time…too long. Miroku was becoming increasingly more frustrated with his lack of success. Already his moves were getting sloppy.

Ginmaru lunged at his stomach. Miroku tried to block, but Kyoden's katana slipped and Ginmaru's arm went through his side. Miroku gasped and backed away quickly, wincing in pain. Ginmaru smiled in triumph and lunged again.

This time, Miroku managed to knock Ginmaru's arm away and plant a firm punch in the youkai's stomach. Ginmaru shrank under the force of the blow and then back-flipped out of range. He coughed, summoning blood. "Damn it all…" he muttered, wiping his chin clean with the back of his hand.

An evil smirk appeared on Ginmaru's face, his beady black eyes shiny brightly as they surveyed the prince. "So, houshi, think you're going to save the Takara kingdom from certain doom?" he said, his tongue flicking out to taste the air in a serpentine manner.

"Shut up and fight, you over-grown lizard," Miroku responded sharply, brandishing the blade. "Or are you too afraid?" He knew what Ginmaru was trying to do: he was buying time for himself.

"Nothing of the sort," Ginmaru shot back, not missing a beat. "I just want you to understand what exactly it is you're up against. I don't want you to get too hopeful about playing the hero." He rose to his feet and pointed his arm at Miroku's heart. "If you can't defeat me, you'll never beat Naraku."

"I will defeat you," Miroku said defiantly.

"Right," the youkai sneered. He rushed at Miroku again, and the prince sidestepped to dodge. He tried to cut the youkai open with a sideswipe, but the youkai managed to bend his middle just in time.

"Getting a bit messy, aren't we, houshi?"

Miroku wiped the sweat from his eyes and rushed. The wind whistled in his ears, warning him. Miroku ignored it and raised Kyoden's katana to execute his hasty, uncalculated attack at Ginmaru's stomach. Ginmaru spun to dodge and brought his tail around. Next thing he knew, Miroku was flying backwards through the air. His head made contact with something hard; he felt as through he had just been thrown against a stone wall. His vision blurred, and fuzzy images swam before his eyes.

"Steady on, Miroku," a voice called tauntingly from above.

Miroku looked up to see Kyoden standing over him. "If you keep swinging like that, you'll poke your eye out!"

"K-Kyoden!" Miroku stuttered. He stared in disbelief at the image of his brother that stood before him, as solid and real as Miroku. They were in a white plain, surrounded by nothingness. "Where are we?…Am I…dead?"

"Come on, Miroku, get up," Kyoden said, urging his brother to his feet by prodding him with his shinai.

Miroku did as he was told, but he still couldn't believe his eyes.

"Dodge left," Kyoden said suddenly.

Miroku hesitated, confused. A second later, he felt the cool rush of steel against his flesh. He pulled back sharply, and the unseen weapon grazed his arm.

"Duck."

This time Miroku didn't miss a beat.

Kyoden pointed at his own heart. "Right here, Miroku. Hit right here."

Miroku frowned. "No!" He got to his feet and held the sword guardedly in front of him.

Kyoden scoffed. "This is not time to be childish, Miroku. Hasn't it always been your dream to surpass me?"

"Kyoden!" Miroku said in protest. "I don't understand! What's happening? Can't you answer me?"

"Miroku, do you want to save hahaue or not?" Kyoden asked. His dark eyes gleamed, his face was set, and there was nothing but courage in his stance. Miroku looked long and hard at Kyoden. This must have been the way Kyoden had looked as he faced Naraku. Miroku wanted to remember him this way forever.

"I _will_ save hahaue!" Miroku gave a fierce battle cry and drove his sword forward, right into Kyoden's heart.

The vision shattered immediately, stripped away by a terrible scream of agony and rage. Miroku looked down and saw that his sword was embedded in Ginmaru's chest. Blood was pouring from the wound, spilling out over the silvery surface of Kyoden's blade. Miroku balked and pulled the sword free, backing away from the silver youkai.

Ginmaru was wailing, clutching his chest. The blood was spilling over the hand that sought to suppress its flow. Ginmaru thrashed his body wildly so that Miroku was caught in a shower of his blood. The youkai took one long, withering look at Miroku, and then he vanished into thin air.

Miroku swayed. He stared blankly at his hands, which were covered in a thick layer of the youkai's blood.

"Houshi-sama!"

Sango. Miroku didn't look up.

"Houshi-sama!" Strong hands gripped his shoulder, steadying him. Sango's heady scent filled his nostrils, making him feel dizzy once more. He finally turned to her, blank-faced and slack-jawed.

"Houshi-sama…" Sango breathed, her voice soft yet urgent. "Scarlet's gone!"

(-)

Scarlet ran.

She didn't know where she was headed; she didn't know if she was being followed…she just couldn't believe what she'd done. What would her mistress say? What would Arisa-sama say?

_"That cub…I never should have wasted my blessing on her."_

The phoenix tattoo burned like a fire had been ignited there. Still, Scarlet did not stop. She knew that she had to go back, but how could she? How could she face them after what she'd done?

They'd know by now. Sango would have gone to Miroku and told him what had happened. If she hadn't figured it out, he would. He would know. Would they come after her? Would they question Yu, Jou, and Ton? She wondered what they would tell the royal pair if pressed.

'They'd tell her nothing,' a voice inside of her said.

But she still doubted.

A branch hit her face, drawing blood. Bushes and brambles snapped at her ankles, scarring the skin there. Her crimson-glowing hair had slipped from its bindings, whipping around behind her like a beacon. Her feet ached and her lungs burned. Still, she did not slow.

Finally, she grew so dizzy that she had to stop. She found a rock and slowly lowered herself onto it, burying her face in her hands.

She hadn't killed Ryudaisetsu; she had only been strong enough to send him back to Naraku. But so long as Naraku was alive, neither Ryudaisetsu nor Ginmaru could be killed. She shook her head, feeling tears itching at the corners of her eyes. She'd let them down, Arisa-sama, Kioko-sama… A block of ice dropped to the bottom of her stomach. She closed her eyes, and a memory unfolded behind her eyelids.

A smiling face swam into focus, two gentle amethyst eyes shining from its depths. "What a lovely child," the woman said. Her voice was a caressing wave upon a beach.

"Who does she belong to?" another voice asked. This woman was younger, slimmer and more excitable. It seemed that the task of sitting still was proving too much for her, as she kept shifting her weight. She had brunette hair and fiercely lovely mahogany eyes.

Kioko smiled at Scarlet. "I took her in after her young parents died of cholera. It's a wonder she managed to survive." The usual lie to deflect questions. Scarlet knew it well.

"How awful," the younger woman gasped, covering her mouth with her hands. She was showing a bit more tan the appropriate amount of grief for Scarlet's situation, and it made the two-year-old blush lightly.

"Can we get started?" a third woman asked. She was small, with a thin-lipped frown and hands that kneaded restlessly in her lap.

"Mayuko…" the first woman said in a soft warning.

"Iie," Kioko said, waving her hand in front of her face. She flashed the woman named Mayuko a warm smile. "Mayuko-san, if you could get the child…?"

Mayuko shot her two companions an anxious glance, and then rose to her feet. She strode from the room, sliding the door closed behind her.

"Kioko-sama…" the youngest started nervously. "Do you really think you'll be able to stop him?"

Kioko considered this a moment, her head tilted to one side. Scarlet puffed out her chest approvingly; she knew that Kioko could do anything and everything. Kioko, however, did not seem so certain. "I shall have to examine him first. You say you've brought the vile his father used to seduce Tansho-sama?"

"Ee," the woman said, producing the vile.

"Here he is." Mayuko walked into the room, holding a small boy in front of her like a bundle of rotten fish. Her face was mask of disgust. She deposited the boy on the tatami in front of Kioko.

"Kahori-san, please remove his blankets so I can see his face," Kioko asked of the woman with the gentle amethyst eyes. Kahori nodded with a cheerless smile and drew back the dirty blue covering. Scarlet leaned over to see him closer.

There was nothing remarkable about the baby underneath. He was normal-sized, with a reasonably handsome face. He had a thick layer of black hair covering his head. Scarlet considered reaching out and poking him to make sure he wasn't just a mirage with the real monster waiting underneath, but then he opened his eyes.

Scarlet gasped as their eyes met. They were as blue as hers, but they were different nonetheless. Loathing shone from his eyes, and the two-year-old fancied she could see burning flames in his pupils. Scarlet hid her face in her hands and backed away from the hanyou child.

Kioko's warm embrace enfolded her, drawing Scarlet into her warmth. "It's alright, Scarlet," she whispered soothingly, stroking her crimson-tinted hair. "He's only a baby." She released Scarlet and leaned forward, her hand passing over the child. Her eyes closed and her breathing slowed. Scarlet watched her intently, her stomach doing flips. Suddenly, Kioko gave a violent jerk and her eyes snapped open. She had gone quiet white.

"Kinuko-san, please give me that vile."

The youngest woman handed Kioko the vile clutched in her palm. "What are you going to do?"

Kioko's expression became very grave. She stood, her black eyes on the three women assembled before her. "I'm going to use this vile as an artifact to seal him with." Her black eyes flashed, and she glared down at the bundle before her. "But that will not be enough."

The two young women went very pale, but Kahori lifted her eyes to Kioko and asked, "What must we do?"

"I will require a more complex seal over the one given by the artifact. The artifact can only place a stopper on his powers-do you know what those are?"

They averted their eyes and did not answer. Finally, Kinuko replied, "He can change his shape." Her voice shook like wind chimes in a storm.

Kioko's frown deepened. "So long as the artifact seals him, he shall be unable to change his shape. But his is an evil purpose. We must banish him to limbo. For that, I need a blood seal." The three women stared at her blankly. Kioko took a deep breath and explained. "A blood seal: a link between three people that will hold this baby in limbo. So long as the blood of these three people remains on this earth –carried through descendents after their own passing, of course- he will be forced to remain."

"You can use my blood," Kahori said at once. She rolled up the sleeve of her kimono, revealing her wrist.

"And mine!" Kinuko exclaimed.

Mayuko stared at the ground dispassionately.

"I need three," prompted Kioko gently.

"Use your own," snapped Mayuko.

Kinuko gasped, but Kioko seemed unfazed. "That would be most unwise as my position requires me to remain chaste. Therefore, my bloodline will pass from this earth with my death and the seal will be weakened."

Mayuko did not look up.

"Oh Mayuko," Kinuko said imploringly, "don't be so unkind!"

But Kahori's face softened. She reached out and grasped Mayuko's hand. "You're the one who's carried him thus far, Mayuko. I know it's unfair to ask you to take on another burden, but please…for the sake of the Kawate kingdom…" She paused and then added, "For Tansho-sama's sake."

This seemed to decide the matter. Whoever this Tansho person was, Mayuko had no intention of letting her down. She balled her hands into fists and nodded slowly. She allowed Kahori to help her roll up her sleeve, and then produced her pale wrist.

Kioko's countenance darkened. She narrowed her eyes and said in a hushed voice, "Scarlet, go back to your room. This is not something that you should witness."

Scarlet began to protest, but then thought better of it. She took one last look at the monstrous child and then slipped from the room.

The cries that resounded through the darkness that night would echo through her mind for years to come.

Scarlet opened her eyes. That was the first time she had seen Naraku, those years ago. How much she regretted not reaching out and wringing his neck right then and there. If she had…if she had, none of this would have happened. She would not be here following Miroku and Sango around like a bloodhound. She would never have met the Chiba siblings. And most importantly, Kioko-sama would still be alive.

A tear fell into her lap, landing with a soft plop.

"Pathetic," a familiar voice sneered from above.

Scarlet looked up jerkily, her heart stopping and the phoenix tattoo on her chest flaring with white-hot pain. "Arisa-sama!"

The kitsune looked down her long snout that Scarlet. She was high above, resting in the boughs of an old oak. She was as beautiful as ever, her silver coat glimmering in the late morning light.

Scarlet stood, hastily wiping the tears from her eyes. "Arisa-sama, what are you doing here?"

"I was about to ask you that same thing," Arisa answered. She dropped gracefully from the tree, landing on all fours in front of Scarlet. Her blue eyes flashed as they surveyed the woman in front of her. "What are you, Scarlet? Three?" She curled her lips back in a mocking grin. "No, you were less of a crybaby at that age. I guess maybe you've grown into it."

Scarlet shook her head in protest. "No, Arisa-sama, it's not like that-!"

"It's not?" Arisa questioned, her voice suddenly as hard and cold as ice. "What were doing just then? Giggling at some private joke? By Inari, I thought I'd taught you better. I thought I'd taught you to be brave, to face your fears instead of running from them. And now you're offering me excuses?" She stamped her front forepaw down on the earth.

"Pathetic."

Scarlet felt her tears welling up in her eyes again. "But Arisa-sama, I couldn't do it! I tried to kill Ryudaisetsu, and all I managed to do was temporarily seal him and send him back to Naraku! I've- I've failed you!" Her voice shook, but she wouldn't cry. She would be brave, just like Arisa had told her to. "And now they'll know! They'll both know what I am!"

"So what?" Arisa asked, blinking coyly.

"S-So what?" Scarlet repeated incredulously. "How can I explain myself to them? How can I tell them about the Chiba family, and…and Naraku?"

Arisa's tails twitched. "You were going to have to tell them eventually."

"But I didn't want it to be this way!"

Arisa smiled bitterly, changing the air of their conversation. "Things don't always go the way we want them to, Scarlet. In fact, they have a funny habit of going in just the opposite direction. Do you think I wanted to find a little baby girl in the ruins of that village?"

Scarlet was still upset, but she had been subdued by Arisa's last comment. She lowered her eyes and clenched her fists. It was a long time before she had the guts to ask, "How can I face them?"

Arisa's face softened and she padded forward. "Scarlet, you have grown into a very strong woman. Why else would Kioko have entrusted the blood seal's fate to you?" Arisa reached out and placed her forepaw on Scarlet's thigh, drawing the girl's gaze. "Kioko died that night so that you could go and be the woman you were always meant to be."

Scarlet closed her eyes tightly to resist, but the memory emerged regardless.

"Scarlet!"

Scarlet looked up wildly, blinking against the water that was forming in her eyes. The wind was too strong. She couldn't see properly.

Suddenly, Kioko was pushing her down. They were on the floor, Kioko's hand keeping Scarlet's head pinned down. "Stay here," Kioko ordered, her black eyes flashing.

"Kioko-sama!" Scarlet said in protest, trying to get up. "Kioko-sama, what's happening? Is a youkai attacking the temple?"

Kioko shook her head. "No….no, that's not it." She suddenly looked very sad. "Stay here, Scarlet. Onegai shimasu!" And then she turned and disappeared. But for a moment, just before she turned, Scarlet could have sworn she saw tears in Kioko's eyes.

That was the last time she'd seen Kioko.

Arisa retracted her paw. "I'll see you again, cub." With that, she disappeared, and Scarlet was left alone with only her tears for company.

(-)

It was past midday when Scarlet returned. The others had made a temporary camp, seeing to each other's wounds and such. They looked up as Scarlet came into view with guarded expressions. At first, Scarlet couldn't bring herself to look at them. But then, slowly, she raised her icy blue eyes and sought the face of Miroku and Sango. They were sitting together; Sango had been bandaging Miroku's shoulder.

"You probably know by now," Scarlet began stiffly, refusing to look at any of the Chiba siblings, "but I'll tell you anyway."

Scarlet cleared her throat, summoned a deep breath for courage, and then said, "I'm a miko."

- Ichimu


	21. The Whole Story

Disclaimer: Unfortunate as it is, I don't, and never will, own Inuyasha.

Author's Note: I know you're all tired of hearing them, so I'm telling no excuses this week.

This chapter was such a btch to write, seriously. I wanted to shoot myself multiple times in the process of writing this. I hate really long dialogue sequences, which is basically what this chapter is.

I didn't read through it, so beware-- type-o's abound.

__

Chapter 21, The Whole Story

Pain darted across Sango's face and Miroku tightened his hold on her arm before looking away. "So" he said, the cold calmness of his face a staggering blow. "You lied to us." Scarlet wished he would yell, scream, slap heranything but this.

She raised a hand imploringly. "Miroku, Sango-chan-"

As she called out to Sango, the girl flinched and let her eyes fall on her lap.

"Why would you lied like that? Why lie about something like being a miko?" Miroku asked.

Scarlet wanted to slap him. He was one to talk, the dirty hypocrite. She wanted to shout his secret to the world, so that she wouldn't have to bear the pain of revealing a secret alone. But she knew even as she thought this that she wouldn't do something like that. "Well, if you knew the whole story"

"That's enough. Scarlet-sama!" Yu thundered. Her fist made contact with the ground, splitting it.

Scarlet looked at the woman. She was livid, her whole body shaking with pent-up energy. Jou remained quiet and unmoving at her side. Ton seemed torn between the two, unsure whose side he should be on.

"No, Yu," Scarlet said softly, trying to keep her voice from shaking. "I'm tired of lying. Arisa-sama told me I had to tell them."

Yu scoffed. "Oh well, since the _kitsune _said it, it must be right."

Scarlet bristled. Her icy eyes flashed in warning and she took a step towards Yu. "You will treat Arisa-sama with the respect she deserves, Yu!"

Yu looked at Scarlet as though she might very much enjoy strangling her. But before she could pounce, Jou's hand whipped out and encircled hers. She looked at her brother in a mixture of confusion and disgust. "That will do, aneue," Jou said gently. "They are entitled to the truth."

For all the darkness in Yu's expression, Jou might have just stabbed her in the back. She slapped his hand away and stood, her eyes darting to Ton. The boy wouldn't look at her, however, and so Yu turned to Scarlet. "Very well, Scarlet-_sama_, tell your story. But I will be off hunting for dinner. Good day." She dipped her head to them, her dark eyes trained to Scarlet's face, and then stomped away into the woods.

Scarlet heaved a mighty sigh. "She doesn't want you to hear my story because it reveals certain truths about the Chiba family that she would rather have kept secret," Sango explained. She lowered herself to the ground and began playing with a strand of crimson-tinted hair.

"Go on," said Miroku, the icy tone still holding sway over his voice. "Tell us the truth, Scarlet."

"Very well, but you may not like what you hear." Scarlet averted her eyes. "My mistress was Sanda Kioko."

Both Miroku and Sango looked up at her. "Sanda Kioko?" Miroku repeated with a gasp. "The great miko of the north?"

"The same," Scarlet replied. "She took me in shortly after my birth --my village had been set upon and destroyed by Ryudaisetsu. I was the only survivor. Later, Kioko-sama sealed the dragon away in a mountain lake.

"I grew up under the joint parentage of Kioko-sama and a kitsune named Arisa-sama. They taught me a great deal of things about this world. Arisa-sama taught me how to hunt, and how a youkai's mind works. Kioko-sama taught me to read and write in both Japanese and Chinese. Among other things, these were valuable lessons for me.

"When I was seven, our temple was attacked by youkai. Kioko-sama was in a distant village sealing a youkai, so Arisa-sama was taking care of me. Somehow, the youkai managed to break through the temple's wards. It headed for a temple room that had always been sealed, even to me. Arisa-sama ran in front of the door, barking wildly at the youkai to keep away. But the youkai swatted Arisa-sama away like a fly.

"Seeing Arisa-sama injured, something inside of me clicked. I ran forward and stood in front of the door. And when the youkai reached for me, I threw my hands forward and showered him with purple light. He was instantly purified.

"Kioko-sama returned and Arisa-sama told her what had transpired. They held council for almost a full day, exchanging many angry words. Finally, Arisa-sama appeared and beckoned to me. I learned then that I had the potential to be a miko, and that Kioko-sama would begin my training immediately. When I asked Kioko-sama what was in the temple room that had to be protected so, her face darkened. She told me I would discover that when I completed my training."

Scarlet shook her head as if to ward off a bad thought. "There was another woman who worked with Kioko-sama. She had no spiritual ability, but she was eager to learn all she could about youkai extermination. Her name, Miroku, Sango-chanwas Mayuko."

The royal couple gasped in unison. "Mayuko?"

"Yes, one of three women who upheld the Blood Seal." Scarlet sighed. "Mayuko-san eventually married and moved to a distant village. Kioko-sama eagerly awaited news of a child, but none came. Takara Kahori's bloodline was already ensured in the presence of two sons, though she was very ill. Two days after my tenth birthday, news arrived of Kawate Kinuko's second childand her death." Scarlet kept her eyes down.

"This was very upsetting news for Kioko-sama, who spent the next five days grieving for Kinuko-san. A carriage carrying Kahori-san rode up at the end of Kioko-sama's grieving. Kahori-san was furious with Kioko-sama, and started a fight with her, which eventually was halted by Kahori-san's illness. It was painful for me to see, as I remembered the three women quite clearly; I had been there when they brought Naraku before Kioko-sama.

"Anyway, once Kahori-san had quieted, Kioko-sama comforted her and they talked long into the night about the seal. When the morning came, Kahori-san left. That was all for five years"

Scarlet's voice broke and she had to regain her composure before continuing. "When I was fifteen, something terrible happened. I was spending the night with Arisa-sama on a hunt when I heard an explosion. I took off towards the temple, ignoring Arisa-sama's protests. When I arrived, it was like a tornado was blowing through the clearing. I ran into the temple, calling for Kioko-sama. She came up behind me and pinned me to the ground, telling me to stay put. Then, she left."

Scarlet stifled a sob. "And I never saw her again.

"Arisa-sama caught up with me afterwards, and took me away from the ruins. I must have fallen asleep, because the next thing I knew, Arisa-sama was returning from scouring the sight. There was nothing of Kioko-sama left.

"Then, she told me about the sealed room. She told me the story of Naraku and how Kioko-sama had sealed him. She explained the Blood Seal that Mayuko-san, Kahori-san, and Kinuko-san had formed. She said that the Blood Seal must have broken because of a extinction in one of the bloodlines. Then, she left me.

"When she came back, she had news. Arisa-sama announced that Mayuko-san was dead, and that Naraku had escaped. Remembering the baby I had only seen briefly, I was frightened. But Arisa-sama assured me that the seal could be reformed, and Naraku destroyed."

Scarlet's eyes darted to Jou's face, still covered by the cloth. Ton shifted uneasily. Jou slipped an arm around his shoulders bracingly. "Go on, Scarlet-sama, tell them."

"Arisa-sama told me to search for the Chiba family," Scarlet said at length. "She told me that they were three hanyou siblings living in the Kawate kingdom"

"Hanyou?" Sango said in disbelief. Miroku looked up, startled, and pulled Sango closer to himself.

Jou nodded, and Ton grew pale. Scarlet offered Sango a wry smile. "I did tell you that they were a talented family, didn't I?"

Sango slowly nodded, her lips turning down into a frown.

"And not just any hanyou" Jou continued in a quiet voice. "Hanyou that carried the blood of a special youkai. The youkai that had fathered Naraku." Ton squirmed slightly, hiding his face. Jou reached down and gently removed them. "Hated, dirty things the same creatures that eventually earned their family such loathing that the villages killed their parents." His voice was dark and terrible, and Ton began to cry.

"Two months after I lost my sight, they attacked. Yu grabbed Ton and I and headed for the river. Our mother stayed with our father, who fought with all his might to save her. But, alas, we found their bodies on display in the town center the next morning," Jou continued. His tone was venomous now.

"A few months after Kinuko-sama's death, Kioko-sama came to us and offered us her protection. But she gave it a condition. She said that if she protected us, she would bind us to her service. Scared, lost, and bitter, we agreed. And so, we shed our hanyou forms and were placed in more or less human bodies. Our first assignment from Kioko-sama was to protect a small green vile."

"The vile that their father used to seduce Tansho-san," Scarlet explained. "Anyway, it took me many, many seasons to find the Chiba family, as their youki was so cleverly disguised. When I finally did, we discovered that the bond they had shared with Kioko-sama had been passed down to me."

"Aneue was furious," Ton said softly. "She thought we were finally free when she heard of Kioko-sama's death. She hated Scarlet-sama"

"And I've been laying low ever since," Scarlet said in conclusion, "waiting for some news of Naraku's doings."

There was a long silence when Scarlet finished.

"Well?" Sango said at last, looking at Miroku. "What do you think, houshi-sama?"

Miroku didn't answer right away. He stared hard into Scarlet's icy orbs, like he might be able to read something in them. Scarlet stared back defiantly, though she felt something coming loose inside. At length, he sighed and looked away. "It's not my place to pass judgement on her."

"But she lied to us!" Sango protested.

Miroku looked at her, and suddenly, Scarlet was aware of how tired he looked. Could it be the stress of lying to Sango was wearing the prince down? "Does it bother you so much, Sango?"

Sango blinked, confused, and then flushed angrily. "Of course it does!" Sango trumpeted, fisting her right hand. "She deliberately lied to us! She lied to us multiple times, to our faces!" Then, seeing Miroku's face cloud, Sango whispered, "Doesn't it bother you, houshi-sama?"

But Miroku only stood and walked away.

Scarlet watched him go, and she suddenly felt very sorry for him. The truth was a dangerous thing to be tampered with

"I forgive you," Sango said suddenly, causing Scarlet to jump and look up at her. Sango was blushing darkly and staring at her hands. "All of you." Then, she rose and followed after Miroku.

- Ichimu


	22. Enduring Ignorance

Disclaimer: Inuyasha is property if its rightful owners. I have no part in its creation, and I make no profit from it. Thank you.

Author's Note: (See author's note on Chapter 23)

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Chapter 22, Enduring Ignorance

Miroku was leaning against the trunk of a tall tree Sango didn't know the name of. She approached slowly, aiming to make the least noise possible, but Miroku heard her anyway. "Konnichiwa, houshi-sama," Sango tried. She attempted to smile, but it only made her look like she was in pain, so she stopped.

Miroku grunted in response and looked away.

Sango almost turned around and walked away right then, but she steadied herself. Swallowing against the lump in her throat, she moved closer to the man. "Houshi-sama" she breathed.

"Sango, what do I look like to you?" Miroku asked suddenly, still not looking at her.

Sango was caught off-guard. "What?"

"I asked what do I look like to you?" Miroku repeated. He sounded so tiredmore tired than she heard him sound before.

Sango struck out her lower lip in thought. Was this a trick question? She had the feeling she was supposed to say something deep and meaningful, but that had never been her strong suite. So instead, she said lamely, "You look like a houshi."

Miroku looked over at her finally, and she was momentarily distracted as his amethyst eyes caught a beam of sunlight. "Is that the truth?"

Was it? Sango took in his appearance. Miroku was tall and thin, though he could hardly be mistaken for gangly. Rather, he was compact and muscular. He wore the robes of his order, though the edges were slightly frayed, and carried his shakujou with him at all times. He had a neat pile of black hair on his head, and the most stunning eyes she could recall seeing. Miroku was handsome, Sango realized suddenly. Although it couldn't be so sudden She had always known that Miroku was good-looking, but the extent of his looks had only just become visible to her. She felt her face grow hot and quickly looked away. "Yes," she answered.

Miroku released a sigh, but she couldn't be sure whether he was relieved or sad. "Well," he said at length. "We should be getting back. We still have a long journey ahead of us."

Sango nodded slowly. "Are you sure you're alright?"

Miroku only offered a wry smile before walking back towards their camp.

(-)

When they got back, Yu had procured some berries and nuts to enrich their lunch. They left the road following the brief meal, and continued southeast. Sundown set the sky ablaze with fiery hues, but they didn't stop for another two hours, when Sango tripped over a root and twisted her ankle.

"There's a village nearby," Miroku said as he knelt down beside her. "I can secure us lodgings at the village head's home."

"How?" Sango asked. A respectable home sounded wonderful after so many nights of bathing in the river and sleeping on a hard futon. She fought make the urge to cringe as she eased weight onto her ankle. "I thought you weren't permitted to carry money?"

"I didn't forget," Miroku said, some of his old self shining through as he winked. "I have other methods"

"He means lying," Scarlet explained to Sango. This caused Sango to giggle.

"Houshi desu!" Miroku exclaimed, bringing the back of his hand to his forehead in mock faintness.

But sure enough, the second they entered the village, Miroku was warning the villagers of an ominous cloud hanging over their leader's home. The man, a small old man named Hisanobu implored Miroku to exterminate the youkai, which Miroku happily agreed to do.

"See?" Scarlet said, her eyes flat. "Lying."

Even Yu had to smile a bit at this.

They had a wonderful dinner, and Sango hadn't slept so well in over a week. When they left at the break of dawn the next day, Miroku gave some extra seals to Hisanobu. Then they on their way, the first signs of spring pushing through a fresh layer of powdery snow.

'Just a little farther,' Miroku repeated over and over to himself like a mantra. 'Just a little farther'

(-)

"Ginmaru!"

The silvery youkai slinked forward. "My lord," he breathed, keeping his head low in submission.

"Tell me what you have discovered. Has he realized the power of the blade?" The voice was just above an urgent whisper, and Ginmaru thought he detected a hint of fear in his master's tone.

"No, my lord Naraku," the lizard hissed. "He remains unaware."

"And the miko?"

"She's told them her identity."

A knife raced through the still air, grazing Ginmaru's arm. "That's not what I meant, fool. What do I care if the miko's given her story? Does she know about the katana?"

"N-no," Ginmaru stuttered.

"And has the prince told his side? Does the princess know?"

"No, my lord," Ginmaru said, regaining some of his confidence.

"Good." A smile tugged at the corners of Naraku's lips. The smile was so hideously chilling that even Ginmaru shivered. "One more day, and they'll be here, Ginmaru. One more day, and I'll finally be free!"

"Yes, my lord," Ginmaru said, bowing low and excusing himself from the room.

- Ichimu


	23. Foresight and Slipping Time

Disclaimer: I do NOT own Inuyasha. Thank you.

Author's Note: Well for anyone who has this story on their alert list, you will know for a fact that I updated my story-- as promised-- on Thursday. But unfortunately, since my computer is a (fill in word of choice here) and absolutely hates me, it decided to delete the chapter. So, instead of putting the chapter up with some dumb excuse, I decided to make it up to you by doing a double post. I hope this means I won't get less reviews, though!

Enjoy the bonus chapter.

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Chapter 23, Foresight and Slipping Time

The morning was crisp and bright, filled with sunshine and birdsong. Miroku rested with his eyes closed in the boughs of a sakura tree. The sweet-smelling blossoms filled the air around him as a warm spring breeze shook the branches. A smile was captured on his lips.

Heavy footfalls on the ground below shook Miroku from his doze. He frowned and cast a glance toward the ground. His amethyst eyes connected with Fumihiko, one of his personal servants, and one of the newer additions to the small group. "Oi, Fumihiko, up here!"

Fumihiko looked up and spied Miroku. "Miroku oji," he said, sighing in relief. "I thought Takara tono was going to kill me if I didn't find you."

Miroku smiled disarmingly. "You worry too much, Fumihiko!" With that said, he leapt from the tree and landed squarely on his feet. He brushed a hand along his haori to free it of dirt. "What does my father want to see me for?"

"Your brother has returned from the Kawate kingdom," Fumihiko said, obviously excited.

A grin brightened Miroku's face. He took off at top speed toward the castle's walls. He passed several pompous nobles on his path, yet somehow managed to avoid his father. He reached the wall and jogged up the stairs to stand on the catwalk. Gasping for air, he leaned on the wall and regarded the marvelous procession that followed his older brother home.

Kyoden rode in front, his bearing proud. His handsome face was bathed in sunlight, his black hair peeking out from underneath his ornate helmet. His coral-colored, dragon scale-plated armor shone brightly in the light. Kyoden's dark eyes were distant, and his countenance one of absent-minded satisfaction, but as Miroku watched him, Kyoden looked up and spied his younger brother. He flashed him a huge smile, and waved before turning back to the road ahead.

Moonbeams danced across the surface of the lily pond in a sacred, timeless ritual. The lilies shone with a powdery glow. Koa leapt in and out of the shadows cast by the lily pads, their luminous scales scattering the moonlight. Miroku watched the peaceful scene a few feet distant from the edge, his mind elsewhere this night.

"Miroku."

Miroku looked up as his brother neared. "Konbanwa, Kyoden."

Kyoden smiled and hugged his brother strongly. Miroku hugged back, his heart swelling with joy at having his brother home. "I missed you, little brother," Kyoden muttered.

Miroku grinned and broke the hug. "I don't have to tell you that I missed you as well, but I will anyway."

Kyoden shook his head and moved off a few paces to examine an iris. "The gardens are beautiful in the moonlight, aren't they?"

"I'll bet the gardens in the Takara kingdom are even more beautiful, ne?"

The smile that softened Kyoden's face was nostalgic. His dark eyes were distant. "Only when Sango-sama is in them."

"Eh?" Miroku teased, leaning against the trunk of a strong tree, "You've really fallen for this girl, haven't you?"

"She's incredible, Miroku," Kyoden said, suddenly excited. "She's sweet and fun, and she's filled with love. She's the most amazing person I've ever met."

Miroku smirked, his expression playful and knowing all at once. "Enough of that. Judging by your reaction, I'll bet she doesn't look too bad either."

Pink sprang up in Kyoden's cheeks, and he averted his eyes to the bamboo wall. He paused before whispering, "She's gorgeous, Miroku. Her face is painted as white as the snow, but I can hardly tell why; she could easily go without every drop of make-up on her face, she's lovely enough naturally. She has the body of a goddess, perfect in every way. Her brown eyes are" Here, Kyoden had to stop himself. He took a deep breath and started again. "Her eyes are so full of longing that your heart is ripped out of your chest and pressed into her palm. And she smells heavenly, like plums and irises." Kyoden looked at his brother as he finished his description, and was surprised to find his brother's look sad and distant.

"She sounds perfect," Miroku commented in a monotone.

Kyoden sighed and crossed to his brother. "Miroku," he said, touching his brother's arm. "You know, last night Sango and I took a walk together in the gardens. She was timid and quiet, but our conversation didn't lag. Then, she did something completely outrageous." Kyoden stopped and waited until he knew he had captured Miroku's attention. "She pulled me into a grove of cedar and kept on running until we lost our attendants." He chuckled at the memory and rubbed the back of his neck with his hand. "And then she kissed me."

Miroku raised his eyebrows suggestively. "Oh, how scandalous."

"Well!" Kyoden began to respond with a frown. "Yes, Miroku, it is very improper for a unmarried man and woman to run off like that, especially among people of our stature. Not that you would know anything about that."

"What're you implying?" Miroku asked, returning his brother's frown.

"Oh, Miroku!" Kyoden said with an exasperated sigh. "It's no secret how you chase around the ladies in the court."

Miroku rolled his eyes and said nothing.

"Anyway," Kyoden continued, "It's the strangest thing, but" His voice trailed off and he did not pick up his sentence. When Miroku looked at him, Kyoden's dark eyes were focused on his, piercing so that they seemed to be looking into his inner core. Miroku shifted uncomfortably under his brother's gaze. "Miroku, as our lips touched, a strange thought came to me. It all felt very wrong, as though I was in the wrong place and time. And then" He smiled and shook his head.

"Suddenly I was outside of myself, watching Sango as she moved into me, and watching my only body fold around hers in response. And something changed. It happened so subtly and quickly that at first I didn't notice it, but all at once, instead of me kissing Sango, it was you."

A cold wind passed between the brothers, so that Miroku shivered and pulled his haori tighter around his frame. He couldn't believe what his brother had just said. How ridiculous! He was removed from his body? And then, as if that wasn't enough, Miroku's had replaced his self? Miroku looked at the lily pond quickly, averting his gaze to the amethyst depths that matched his own eyes in color. He searched for the ethereal beauty that had shone there a moment before, but it was gone, and only a stark reality remained.

"For some reason, Miroku, seeing you there in the place of me it made me" There was a catch in his voice, either as he searched for the right word or as he was overcome by emotion, Miroku couldn't be sure. "_Happy_."

Miroku furrowed his brow and looked at his brother. "What do you mean?"

Kyoden was no longer looking at him. His dark eyes had glazed over, and the smile on his lips was absent. Finally, he blinked and turned to Miroku. He clapped his hand down on Miroku's shoulder in companionship and he said, "Nevermind, brother. Another day perhaps." Without another word, he turned Miroku and led him back to the palace.

(-)

Miroku looked up at his father's castle, silhouetted against a sky alive with the brilliant array of colors that arose to bid the sun farewell. That was exactly a year ago, he realized somberly. His brother had only been gone for a few weeks, but sometimes it felt like an eternity. Other times, it seemed like it had never happened.

But it had.

Kyoden was gone, and no useless memories would ever bring him back. But still, his brother's words that night had disturbed him in a way he could never place. It was like when he had confessed to Miroku that he never felt he would someday rule in their father's place. It was as if Kyoden had always known that this would happen.

Miroku scoffed and brushed the thought aside. He was tired of the vague images that haunted the edge of his vision, of the dreams that forced their way into his dreams. He was through hearing strange voices calling to him through the mists of his troubled mind. Why did these things have to plague him so? Did they plague Sango, or Scarlet, or any of the Chiba siblings as well? They had all lost people dear to them, so were they also tormented by these crazy imaginings?

"Here we are," Sango whispered, calling his attention back to the looming figure of the Takara kingdom.

"Indeed," Miroku remarked, trying to sound brave.

Sango and the Chiba siblings started down the hill, but Scarlet and Miroku hung back.

"You know what waits beyond those walls, don't you, Miroku?" Scarlet looked at him, her icy eyes penetrating.

Miroku didn't answer right away. Finally, he breathed, "I wish I could tell her, Scarlet. I've tried so many times, but I just don't know how to do it. I want her to figure it out, but as soon as she gets close, I panic and try desperately to make ends meet. It keeps me awake at night, worrying."

Scarlet nodded knowingly. "It was the same for me. But think of this, Miroku. Would you rather her have to hear it from Naraku?"

"I don't know, Scarlet. I don't know anything."

"This about it," Scarlet advised, starting down the hill. "Well still have tonight and tomorrow before we reach the castle." She gave a reassuring smile and followed after the others, calling for them to wait up.

Miroku risked one last glance at his father's home, and then joined his companions.

- Ichimu


	24. Realizing Strength

Disclaimer: I don't own Inuyasha. Don't sue.

Author's Note: Yay! Back with a pow! Well, at least I hope it's a pow, 'cause it sure pow!-ed me a couple of times while writing it.

Anyway, over the Jewish holiday (yay if you celebrate it- hope you had fun), I was up in Boston looking at schools, so that's why I haven't updated. I think that that is a perfectly valid reason, and I should not be chastised for it. Thank you.

I really hope you guys like this chapter. I worked REALLY hard on it, and I think it's pretty good. PLEASE review with any feedback, negative or positive. (Just as long as I don't get any death notes- Flamers will be used to burn my teachers, so I don't suggest trying it.)

Thanks for sticking with me thus far, and I hope you enjoy! (We're almost at the end!)

Chapter 24, Realizing Strength 

When Miroku awoke at dawn, he saw that Scarlet was already awake. He yawned hugely and stretched before heading towards the river they had camped near, just on the outskirts of the city.

Scarlet was there, her bare torso free from the water's currents, her crimson-tinted hair glinting in the morning sunlight. Her back was to Miroku, but she quickly became aware of his presence. Their eyes met and Miroku looked away quickly, the back of his neck hot.

"G-Gomen," he stuttered. He turned to leave.

"You don't have to go, Miroku," the miko said softly. Miroku risked a glance at her, and was greeted by the frontal view of her naked top half. This deepened his blush, but there was no denying that the image of Scarlet framed by the morning's rays was captivating.

She smiled coyly, as if guessing Miroku's thoughts, and stepped forward. "Come now, we both know this isn't the first time you've seen a woman with her clothes off. Maybe Kyoden oji was beating him considerably, but rumor has it that from the time Miroku oji hit puberty, he almost never went to bed lonely."

Miroku's lip twitched nervously. "Things chance when you've been spending such a great amount of time with a woman like, well, like-"

"Like Sango," Scarlet finished for him, raising an eyebrow. When Miroku's blush only deepened, she sighed and freed herself from the water's already feeble cover. "If I had known you'd become so spellbound by that girl, I would have taken you when you showed up at the brothel."

Miroku was confused. "What are you saying?" he asked. He felt like a child again, and he didn't like it.

Scarlet giggled and walked over to him, still dripping and bare. Then, she reached up and kissed Miroku on the cheek. Miroku's already red face turned as crimson as the phoenix tattoo on Scarlet's chest. Seeing this, Scarlet laughed and patted him on the cheek. "I'm saying you're cute, sweetie."

"Sorry, didn't realize we were interrupting," Jou called tauntingly from behind Miroku. Ton sat on his shoulders, bearing the same mischievous grin as his older brother.

"Oh no," Scarlet said, flipping her long hair over her shoulder in a carefree manner and stepping out from around Miroku. "You were interrupting anything at all." She reached out and collected the clothes Jou held out to her.

Scarlet's icy eyes found Ton's face, flashing dangerously. "I let Jou bring my clothes because he won't see anything. You, young man, are a completely different matter. I don't want you bringing my clothes to me again," Scarlet snapped. She sounded like a very overprotective older sister, or maybe even a mother.

Jou grinned devilishly. "I was just taking Ton out to enjoy the scenery," Jou remarked. "And I see we're not the only tourists on this fine morning." He nodded in Miroku's direction.

Scarlet thinned her lips. "Off with you two," she said. Then, she slipped into her kimono, securing the obi around her waist. Next, she pinned up her hair in an elegant, careful bun. Several beautiful pins kept it in place.

Miroku watched her thoughtfully—his embarrassment not forgotten—before he asked, "Why don't you dress as a miko? I see why you didn't before, but now that Sango and I know…"

Scarlet raised an eyebrow. "A miko would attract attention once we're inside the walls, and that's something we don't want—not when you can be so easily recognized."

Miroku sighed. "That's actually what I want to talk to you about."

"Really?" Scarlet asked sarcastically. "And here I was thinking you dropped by for a swim."

Miroku frowned, which only made Scarlet giggle more infuriatingly. "Sorry, Miroku," she said, wiping tears of mirth from her eyes. She pointed at the springy grass that covered the ground. "Sit."

Miroku did as he was told, watching the miko intently. She smiled reassuringly and sat down across from him.

Miroku ran a hand through his hair. "Where do I start?" he wondered aloud.

"At the beginning," suggested Scarlet sagaciously.

"I've never been as good as Kyoden, as far back as I can remember. He was always the better son, the better hunter, and the better lover… I just couldn't compare, no matter how hard I tried. The only thing I did better than Kyoden was academics. I excelled here, and here alone.

"We were in constant competition, but I loved my brother." Miroku put his face in his hands, trying to hold back tears. "Kyoden always looked out for me; he was a friend in a world of enemies."

Scarlet's brow creased, but she said nothing.

Miroku went on. "I couldn't believe it when I heard he'd been killed. But when I saw him lying there amongst the ruins of Sango's home, I knew I'd lost my brother." A sob constricted his chest. "It was like a part of me died.

"I wasn't long after that that my…feelings for Sango became apparent. I tried to push them away, but…I couldn't. They were too strong, too overwhelming." Miroku was shaking now. "When I tell her, it'll be just as bad as losing her."

"You don't know that," Scarlet protested, reaching out to grip his shoulder.

"But I do!" Miroku argued, shrugging her hand away. "You saw how she reacted to your lie. Imagine how she'll receive mine!"

But Scarlet wasn't giving up. "You can't know how someone will react until you go for it! Miroku, you have to tell her. Imagine if we walk into the walls, and just one person recognizes you. Miroku, it'd be disastrous!"

Miroku seemed to consider this a moment and then whispered, "I know, Scarlet. I know."

A small smile tugged at the corners of Scarlet's lips. "So, you'll tell her?"

Miroku nodded. "I will."

Scarlet beamed and then threw her arms around Miroku. The prince, startled by the gesture, did not move for a moment. "You're a good person, Miroku. A really great person."

'Kyoden was a _better_ person,' Miroku couldn't help but add in his mind.

(-)

They were almost at the walls when Miroku stopped and turned. His amethyst eyes, shining darkly with internal thought, found Sango's and held them. "Sango, can I talk to you for a moment, alone?"

Sango cast a glance at Scarlet, who smiled and nodded encouragingly. "Sure," Sango said, though she really wasn't so sure.

Miroku walked off into the cover of a few trees, Sango following a step behind. She felt like someone had poured a bucket of rocks into her stomach.

"I have something to tell you," Miroku admitted.

Sango didn't say anything, but it wasn't because she didn't have anything to say. In fact, she had a million things to say, and they were all scrambling over one another in her mind, each eager to be the first one out of her mouth. She didn't say anything because she had the instinctive feeling that if she_ did_ say anything, she would shatter Miroku's resolve to tell her.

Miroku's eyes left hers for an instant to glance at a log that had fallen across the clearing. "You'd better sit down."

Sango did as she was told.

Miroku didn't start right away. Instead, as she had expected, he closed his eyes and folded his hands in front of his face. Then, he ran a hand through his jet-black hair—a habit she had grown comfortably familiar with—and opened his eyes. "Sango, do you understand the meaning of a white lie?"

Again, Sango didn't say anything.

"A white lie is something you say to make a person feel better, or to protect them," Miroku explained. "You use white lies to protect an emotional tie you have with another person."

Sango lowered her eyes. She didn't like lies, in any forms. Lies were a bitter poison, and they ate away at the bearer. The more lies, the more ethereal the liar becomes.

"Sometimes, white lies can get out of hand, and go farther than the teller intended," Miroku continued.

He sighed hugely, as if unsatisfied with his approach, and then flung his hands out in front of him. "Sango, I need to tell you…What I need to tell you is—"

It happened so fast that Miroku couldn't comprehend it for the first seconds. One instant Sango was sitting on the log in front of him, and the next, she was gone. He whirled around, and caught sight of Sango's sleeve disappearing through the brush. "Scarlet!" he yelled wildly, beginning to give chase. "Jou, Ton, Yu!"

They streaked into the clearing, moving with deadly purpose. Yu assessed the situation with her quick, dark eyes, and began running ahead of Miroku. Jou followed his sister, with Ton on his shoulders, shouting directions. Scarlet drew level with Miroku as he ran. "What happened?" she demanded.

"She's gone! They took her!" Miroku roared in blind panic. "They've got her, Scarlet!"

Scarlet's icy eyes became pinpoints of rage. "We'll get her back, houshi. We'll get her back."

(-)

When Sango came to, her head was pounding so loudly that she couldn't hear. So, she lay perfectly still until the pounding lessened. What she heard first was the whisper of silk. Next, a gentle female voice was calling to her. Who was it…?

"Sango, Sango…wake up."

Sango opened her eyes. She was lying in the gardens on her back, and a beautiful woman was leaning over her. The passage of years had weakened Sango's memory of the face, but her amethyst eyes shone with their original perfection.

"Sango, you must come." The woman's voice had a level of seriousness that the young princess had rarely been addressed in. It was such a powerful force that Sango rose immediately to her feet.

"What's wrong?" she questioned, fear bubbling up inside of her.

The woman's face was pain-stricken. Sango remembered that clearly. She remembered every tear on the woman's beautiful face. "Come," she urged. She took Sango's small hand and led her away from the gardens, towards the palace.

The room that she brought Sango to was usually large and open, but now it was crowded with such a number of people that it was hard to breathe. Incense burned on a small altar. Her mother lay on a futon, her face pale and drawn and her sheets covered in blood. Her father was at her side, his face wracked with emotion.

"Hahaue!" Sango screamed. The woman holding Sango tightened her grip. "Hahaue!" Sango called again, fighting against the woman's hold.

Kawate Kinuko looked into her daughter's face and whispered coarsely, "It's alright, Kahori-san, let her come."

Sango was free. She ran forward to her mother's side, tears pouring down her cheeks. "Hahaue…" she rasped, touching her mother's kimono.

Kinuko smiled shakily. "Oh, Sango, don't cry. I was never strong, never strong like the others…"

"The others?" Sango questioned, trying her best to drown her sobs in the back of her hand.

"Never mind," Kinuko said. A contraction overtook her, and she shook badly for a few seconds, her face tightening. When it relaxed again, she looked even more tired than before. Sango took out a handkerchief to dab her mother's sweaty brow. "Sango, I need you to be strong now. It's so much to ask, I know. But I need to be strong for your father, and for your new little sibling."

Another contraction. This one was long, one of the last. When it passed, Kinuko was panting. She took her daughter's hand. "Sango, please, promise me you'll be the strength I never had."

Sango had successfully controlled her tears, but she was shaking like a leaf in a high wind. "I promise, hahaue."

Kinuko smiled, "Oh Sango, I love you so much."

"I love you, too, hahaue."

Then, the woman with the amethyst eyes was leading Sango away again, pulling her from the mourners and the incense. Sango walked with her head held high, a testament to the strength she was now to be. Then woman took her from the room, down the hall, and out into the gardens. The instant the cool night air hit her face, Sango broke down into tears.

Then woman with the amethyst eyes held her until she had cried herself to sleep.

Sango's vision cleared, the memory fading until all that remained were the woman's beautiful eyes. But even after she had blinked several times, the eyes didn't disappear.

And then, Takara Kahori began to talk.

- Ichimu


	25. Incursion in the Palace

Disclaimer: I do not make any money off any of this story, let alone the characters that are associated with Inuyasha.

Author's Note: Wow… DemonSlayer205… I'm incredibly honored that you would spend so much time on a review for my story. It was really incredible, with constructive criticism abounding (though I liked the undeserved compliments as well). Not that I'm asking you other guys to imitate that; I would never expect anyone to give me such a long, detailed review. But they are super nice to get.

Anyway, as I think all of my reviewers mentioned it, it's only fair that I explain to you the final sequence in the last chapter. You see, a long time ago, when I was new to writing, I used to write such sequences in italics, or completely separate them from the text in general. But now, I like just weaving them through the prose. Why? Because I think that's how flashbacks and overly vivid memories actually take place. In all of my experiences (non drug-related I assure you ;-) ), flashbacks are so confusing when they happen that you're not even sure whether you're there or not. And especially in a case like Sango's, where she was captured and woke up slowly surrounded by a dream, the line between reality and what she was experiencing would have been thin.

So, I hope that explains a few things for you.

Now for this chapter. I wrote it this weekend at my sister's house, somewhere between watching my nieces, doing dishes, going to a wedding and TWO receptions, visiting colleges, and constant car trips. So, please excuse any type-o's or awkward sentences you come across.

Until next time, enjoy this chapter! ;-)

Translations:

Oneesama (oh-NEE-sahmah): A very respectful term for one's older sister.

Chapter 25, Incursion in the Palace 

Fumihiko could tell that there was something going on the minute he stepped into the shadowy confinements of his home. For one thing, his wife was not there to greet him. For another, there was neither fire nor any signs of cooking. And lastly, there were the strong hands pulling him from the doorway into the shadows.

He tried to struggle, but the trammel was too tight. Not even his scream could slip past the gag that his captor skillfully shoved into his mouth. The next thing Fumihiko knew, there was movement in front of him. The screens shifted in the breeze, causing the sunlight to pour over the woman that now stood before him, her hips cocked at a seductive angle. Her icy eyes mirrored the coy smirk on her face.

They were the last things he saw before he lost consciousness.

(-)

Fumihiko awoke to the sound of raised voices. One belonged to an angry male that sounded undeniably like Kyoden-sama. The other voice spoke in a lilting feminine tone. The poor man wondered whether he had strayed to a place beyond the grave, and was now in the presence of his prince.

"You did what!" the Kyoden-person demanded.

"It was just a conk on the head," the woman soothed. "He's probably already awake." There was the shuffle of feet, and Fumihiko realized that the two people were walking towards him.

"It was, nevertheless, completely unnecessary. If you were worried about getting the wrong man, you could have just blindfolded him before bringing him to me," the Kyoden-person continued.

"If we had just blindfolded, sweets, he would have thrashed about." The footsteps stopped, and two silky hands cupped Fumihiko's face. Then, she ripped the cloth covering Fumihiko's eyes away, and removed his gag.

Once again, Fumihiko was staring into those grinning icy blue eyes. But then, the woman moved aside so that Fumihiko could look up into the half-shadowed figure that undeniably belonged to the Takara bloodline. "K-Kyoden oji?" Fumihiko stuttered, confused.

The figure knelt immediately, so that a stream of the dying light fell across his face. "Fumihiko," Miroku breathed, "It's me."

"Miroku oji!" Fumihiko exclaimed, his heart leaping into his throat in joy-filled surprise. He paused and considered the area where they stood. They were in a small clearing in a forest. He could make out the walls of the city through the gaps in the boughs overhead. A run-down hut stood at the edge of the clearing. A swordsman with a covered face and a dangerous-looking woman leaned against the side of the hut. A young boy of about eleven was throwing kunai at a butterfly, calculating each throw so that they missed the butterfly's fragile wings by a hair.

"So then…" whispered Fumihiko. "I'm not dead?"

This caused Miroku to laugh and clap his personal servant on the shoulder. "No," he chuckled. "Not yet anyway."

Fumihiko answered with a nervous chuckle of his own, while the female burst into very feminine, bell-like laughter. She immediately introduced herself as Scarlet, miko of the North. Fumihiko blushed as she requested that he refer to her, at the most, as Scarlet-san. She proceeded to introduce the blind swordsman Jou, his incredibly strong older sister Yu, and their rambunctious younger brother Ton.

The introductions complete, Miroku took Fumihiko by the shoulders and guided him into the woods. Once they were out of earshot, Miroku faced Fumihiko, grabbed his hand, and proceed to place his forehead into his servant's palm. Fumihiko balked and snatched his hand away, but Miroku only remedied this by falling to his knees.

"Fumihiko, you have always proved yourself to be a good and honorable man. You have attended me for a good many years, and have done me many great services. But now, my dear friend, I have the greatest service to ask of you. I ask that you complete the code you were sworn in under, and place your very own life on the line for my very selfish purposes. There is a girl, Fumihiko, an upright lady of the Kawate family, Sango-san, who has been captured and taken to the palace. I must save her, or not only will my father's kingdom suffer, but my very own heart will wither up and die. Only you can guide my friends and I safely through the palace, for you are the only servant I can trust with so dire a task." He took the hem of his servant's hakama and kissed it before whispering, "Will you do this for me?"

Miroku was known throughout his father's fiefs as being a man of passion and vigor. He had the reputation of being one of the most powerful speakers in the whole history of their realm. After hearing him speak, people returned to their families with stories of how the young prince took words and weaved them into elegant, snaking phrases that dove into his audience's hearts and held them spellbound. Fumihiko, who had never heard his master speak in anything but the very most informal, and sometimes even crude sentences, had always mentally chortled at this praise. But now, as Miroku prostrated himself before his servant and begged Fumihiko to help him save the woman he loved, tears were pouring from Fumihiko's eyes.

Miroku risked a glance at Fumihiko's face, and was astounded by the tears he saw there. Then, Fumihiko threw himself into the lowest bow he could manage, so that Miroku straightened in surprise.

"Miroku oji," he whispered in what could barely be considered a whisper. "It would be an honor."

(-)

They left the camp that night, slipping through the forest on cats' feet. It was the night of the new moon, so only the torches burning on the walls high above lit their way. The air hummed with anticipation as they jogged onward, crouching low against detection from the guards above.

Fumihiko stopped at the bottom of the wall and pushed hard. A door opened, and the six companions crept through. Scarlet lit a bit of tinder with her purple flame and handed it to Fumihiko. He gave it a disapproving glance, but continued without comment. They traveled down a long tunnel, until Fumihiko finally stopped. The corridor continued ahead of them, but Fumihiko was looking at the ceiling. Then, in a decisive movement, he threw a fist into the ceiling, causing a trapdoor to swing open. Ton jumped out and returned with a rope ladder. They climbed out.

They were in a storage room. Miroku, recognizing the smell of his home at once, closed his eyes and took a deep breath. But Fumihiko was already beckoning them through a screen door. They entered another room, this one bare but for an altar at the far end. A small stick of incense burned on the altar, filling the space with its heady scent.

Fumihiko followed Miroku's questioning gaze to the altar before quickly looking away. "For Kyoden oji," he muttered.

Cold fingers coiled around Miroku's heart, but he only nodded stiffly. Scarlet, seeming to sense the prince's sudden pain, slipped her hand into his. Miroku did not remove his hand, but rather squeezed hers gently.

"Where will the princess be?" Fumihiko asked.

"The grand hall," Miroku answered at once. He wasn't sure how, but instinctively he knew it to be true.

"Yes," Yu agreed. "Naraku will want to make a spectacle of defeating the prince. He'll have her in the grand hall, so that his father and his father's servants can see Miroku-sama fall."

"Not that he will," Scarlet inserted, shooting Yu a glare as cold as death.

"Of course not," Yu agreed, her words oozing with sarcastic venom.

Jou stepped between them just in time to start a full-blown fight. "Lead the way, Fumihiko," he said.

"A moment," Miroku whispered, suddenly filled with urgency. The next thing he did seemed strange even to him. He walked across the room as if floating on air, and stopped before his brother's altar. He unclipped his brother's sword and knelt with it held before him, his head bowed as if in prayer. Then, he took the sword and whipped it through the air, snipping off the very tip of the incense. The katana seemed to glow with an ethereal light.

Miroku looked at his own reflection in the shining surface, and was terrified and awe-stricken by what he saw. Except for his amethyst eyes, he was the very image of Kyoden. Over the months, he had grown from adolescence to manhood, and the distinction was striking. His cheekbones were more pronounced, his chin a definite, strong feature. His brow had lowered to become the brow of a warrior.

It was incredible to see his mother's gentle, sad eyes glimmering out of the depths of a face that so undeniably belonged to his brother.

Then, Scarlet was beside him, tugging at his arm. "Hayaku, Miroku! There are voices!"

They moved with shocking swiftness and stealth. Fumihiko led them through a series of twisting corridors that flashed unevenly in front of Miroku's eyes. They saw no one, and heard no more voices. Finally, Fumihiko called them to a halt in front of a screen. Golden light burned through the rice paper, bathing the party in an eerie green glow. Not a sound seeped through the doors.

"The grand hall is on the other side," Fumihiko informed them.

Miroku nodded. "You may return to your home now, Fumihiko. I believe your wife will be worried."

Fumihiko smiled bitterly. "Miroku oji, if I did not have a wife to comfort, which thank gods I do, I would follow you even into this danger."

Miroku placed a bracing hand on his servant's shoulder. The smile he flashed him was warm and filled with gratitude. "As I said before, Fumihiko, you're a great man. Arigato."

Fumihiko flushed darkly. "Iie," he muttered modestly, "It really was nothing." He started to leave quickly before Miroku could insist, but turned back once more to catch the prince's eyes. "Good luck, Miroku oji." With that, he ran off and disappeared around a corner.

Miroku and Scarlet exchanged a glance. "You guys don't have to come, you know."

Jou lifted the fabric free from his face to show his scarred, useless eyes and taunting grin. "Miroku, I wouldn't miss this for the world." Ton leapt onto his brother's shoulder. Scarlet strung a bow Miroku hadn't a clue where she'd gotten, and knocked an arrow. A small orb of purple light formed around the arrowhead.

Everyone looked at Yu.

"How about a grand entrance, oneesama?" Jou suggested.

For the first time since he had known her, Yu smiled. "My pleasure." She rolled up the sleeve of her kimono and sent a fist flying through the wall. It shattered instantly into a cloud of sawdust, choking the air for a few moments.

When the smoke cleared, they were in the grand hall.

- Ichimu


	26. Unraveling and Remembering

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the names or characters that also happen to appear in the popular series Inuyasha.

Author's Note: I solemnly swear that the testimony I am about to present is the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.

This was the hardest chapter to write in this whole blinking story.

Translations:

Damare (dah-mah-reh): Stop

Hama no ya (hah-mah noh yah): purifying arrow

Kesa (keh-sah): the outer part of the attire of a Buddhist monk; the length of fabric that is wrapped over the robe (Miroku's purple sash)

Chapter 26, Unraveling and Remembering

When Miroku had blinked the sawdust clear from his eyes, he sized up the room. All his father's advisors knelt against the walls of the grand hall, watching Miroku intently. At the end of the hall, seven steps led to the Takara throne, where Takara Bairei should have been sitting. But instead, The Lord of the Eastern Lands was sprawled across the bottom three steps, staring at Miroku with wide eyes.

Miroku lifted his eyes to find Naraku lounging on his family's throne.

Sango was at his feet, her legs and arms secured with strong cords. "Houshi-sama…" she rasped, intruding upon the silence.

"My son!" Takara Bairei wailed, obviously delusional. Miroku's eyes snapped to his face, confused by his father's outburst. "My Kyoden, my blessed eldest son! You have returned from the grave to restore your father's honor! My son!" Takara Bairei's advisors exploded into streams of whispered conversations. Was this truly the eldest son come back from the other side?

Miroku curled his lip at his father and looked back at Naraku. "Get off that throne."

Naraku smirked coolly and reached down to grab Sango's face in his clawed hand. "And who are you that order me off this throne? It doesn't belong to you, houshi," Naraku oozed, watching Miroku with triumph in his eyes.

Miroku swallowed his next words and tightened his hold on his shakujou.

"Step down, monster," Scarlet echoed. She stepped forward, raising her bow and taking aim.

"Or what, miko? You'll shoot me with one of your hama no ya?" Naraku laughed and pulled Sango into his lap. She struggled against him, but his grip was firm. "How good is your aim?"

Scarlet snarled and lowered her bow.

Something strange was happening inside of Miroku. It was a cord inside of his stomach. It had been wrapped tightly, kept at bay, but now it was unraveling. His mother's sickness, Kinuko-san's death, Sanda Kioko's death, the Chiba family's tragic tale, and Kyoden's bloody murder were all racing through his head, tensing every muscle in his body. The sight of Sango's pained face, Naraku's claws deep in her shoulder, and the vicious smirk on Naraku's face was boiling the blood in his veins. The fire inside of him lashed out and he roared.

Every head in the room turned to Miroku.

"Naraku!" Miroku released his brother's katana. "Fight me."

Naraku's smirk grew into a sly grin. "My pleasure." He tossed Sango aside and she hit the floor with a small squeak of distress. Then, his sapphires locked with Miroku's amethysts and he drew his blade.

"Let's go."

Their swords met in a flurry of sparks halfway down the steps. They broke away and then they were lunging again. Naraku's sword went over and under Miroku's, and the prince only just managed to knock the blade away from his chest. His kesa was cut by Naraku's attack and fell away, but Miroku didn't notice. As Naraku came at him again, Miroku planted his shakujou in the ground and swung around it to place a kick firmly in the small of Naraku's back. This sent the hanyou sprawling.

Miroku seized his chance and raised his sword to deliver a crushing blow, but as he brought it down, the tip of a silver tail interrupted his slash. "Ginmaru!" Miroku trumpeted.

The next moment, the ground split apart from the force of Yu's fist as she flung it into the floor. Miroku jumped, but Ginmaru was thrown against the wall where Ton was waiting to deliver a punch into the youkai's stomach. Jou appeared the next second at Miroku's side.

"We'll hold off the minions. You just worry about the big guy himself," Jou told him, unsheathing his katana and wakizashi in two fluid movements. He prepared to jump away. "And Miroku-" Miroku snapped his head up to look at him. "-get him good." Miroku smiled crookedly and nodded. The next second Jou was gone and Miroku turned to find Naraku again.

He found him facing off with Yu. The woman was caught between a hoard of youkai minions and the hanyou. "Sister," Naraku was saying, "we should not be fighting. Let us forget this and join me."

Yu caught Miroku's eyes before glancing back at Naraku. "Eat steel, you monster," she growled before ducking. Miroku swung in over her head, catching Naraku on the arm with Kyoden's sword.

The hanyou yowled and caught Miroku around the throat. The prince gasped and dug his nails into the soft flesh on the back of Naraku's hand. He clawed desperately, but it was no use—Naraku had him.

"Release him!" Scarlet's voice screamed. Miroku glanced left just in time to see Scarlet's violet arrow streak through the air. It hit Naraku's left arm in just the spot where Miroku had stuck Kyoden's sword. The blade hummed as the arrow made contact with it, and then flew back and stuck in the shoji behind one of the advisor's heads. Naraku's arm burst apart, and Miroku was free from his grasp. He fell to the floor in a heap.

Naraku turned his eyes to Scarlet.

Scarlet gasped in horror as the fire she had seen there as a child reemerged. She stumbled backwards, trying to pull another arrow from her quiver, but before she could nock it, Naraku was standing in front of her.

"Scarlet!" Miroku called in warning.

Naraku's good hand flew out and caught Scarlet's across the cheek hard. The miko spun away, her body striking the floor with a cracking noise as one of her ribs broke. Her bow landed a few feet away and when Scarlet extended a hand to take it back, Naraku stepped on her hand.

"I'm going to kill you for what you did to my hand, miko. Just like I killed the bitch who taught you," Naraku sneered.

A hot tear rolled down Scarlet's cheek. Naraku kicked her hard in the ribs, and she rolled across the ground, blood trailing behind her in a thick stream that signified it was drawn from vital organs. Naraku cackled.

"Stop!" Miroku shouted, struggling to get back to his feet. "Stop, you ugly bastard!"

Naraku looked back at Miroku. "Are you jealous, houshi? Do you want your turn?" But he didn't come at Miroku. Instead, he began striding down the hall. Yu saw the direction his steps were taking first and flung herself at him, but he brushed her aside with a swipe of his sword. Jou caught his sister in his arms.

"Yu!" he called, but the woman was unconscious, her arm lying across the long wound on her chest.

Ton was next. He flung several poison-tipped kunai at the monster, but Naraku deflected them easily. The next second, Ton was stumbling backward, blood rolling down his chin.

Jou was last. He put himself directly in Naraku's path, glaring coldly at his half-brother with his blind eyes. Then, he rushed. Naraku actually turned his attention to the swordsman. Miroku watched their fight without a sound, following the lightening fast motions with wide eyes. It was impossible to tell which swordsman was better, but a dirty trick from Ryudaisetsu knocked Jou from his feet, and Naraku cut open his thigh.

Jou whirled around and stabbed Ryudaisetsu before turning back to Naraku. The dragon collapsed. Miroku's jaw fell in awe as Jou continued to fight, defensively now. Naraku opened several wounds on Jou's arms and legs before a terrible cut through Jou's shoulder finally brought the mighty ex-samurai down.

Naraku flicked the blood from his sword and mounted the stairs. Takara Bairei shrank away from the hanyou before he followed his advisors to the other end of the room.

"No…" Miroku gasped.

Naraku lifted his katana to Sango's throat, smirking evilly. Sango bit her lip and narrowed her mahogany eyes at the hanyou. The look Naraku fixed her with was somewhere between caring and maniacal. "Sango hime, my darling, don't you find it strange?" he cooed.

"What's that?"

Naraku sent a sideways glance in Miroku's direction. "Things just don't add up about him, do they?"

"What are you talking about?" Sango was truly confused now.

"You just have this creeping tickle up your spine, a nagging suspicion at the back of your head. But you keep putting it down, you keep telling yourself it's not true. But why? Why would you do something so foolish, so childish? Why can't you let yourself see the truth?"

The room was utterly silent except for the occasional whimper from one of the room's injured occupants.

"Why?" Sango asked, her throat dry.

Naraku began to circle her now, keeping the tip of his blade just under her chin. "Perhaps it's because you believe in the good in people. In that case, I pity you. Perhaps it's because you're under some kind of spell, which would be the most logical approach. Or maybe, just maybe…" Naraku looked at Miroku, smiling viciously. "…maybe you've fallen in love with him."

Sango and Miroku gasped in unison.

Naraku cackled and pressed the katana hard against Sango's skin. A thin stream of blood trickled down the blade's surface. Sango cried out in pain, and the coil inside of Miroku's stomach snapped.

"Naraku!"

Sango looked at Miroku and her eyes grew in her head. "Houshi-sama…"

The hanyou looked up just in time to see Miroku pull the prayer beads from his hand.

"KAZAANA!"

The room swam in and out of focus. Miroku took one step forward, and then another. Everything was rushing toward his hand, and there were many voices screaming. He heard specifically Sango's voice over the hum, and he thought he could hear Kyoden calling back. But then, Miroku realized that it was his own voice screaming for Sango over and over again, tears rolling down his cheeks.

Miroku closed his eyes to stop the world from spinning, and Kyoden appeared from the darkness before him.

"Miroku," he was calling. "Stop. This isn't you."

"I can't," Miroku answered. "I can't stop, Kyoden."

"Remember, Miroku. Remember your promise to me."

_With a sigh, Miroku stood and picked up the young princess. It felt weird, as if he were doing his brother's job. Miroku smiled and lifted his face to the heavens, allowing the snow to drift onto his cheeks. "Well, Kyoden, I don't see you here to do it." He looked down at Sango. Something stirred within his chest. "She needs you, Kyoden. Why'd you have to be a fucking hero? Why do you always have to be so goddamn noble?" He choked back tears bravely. "Well, if you're not going to protect her, I will."_

"Remember me."

_Kyoden lay on the wooden floor, which still shone with the health it had known when it had been part of a grander estate. His face was white, his mouth open, and his black eyes were still staring at where Sango had stood that night. Rot, if it had even begun, was not present on his visible features. In appearance, he was as perfect an artifact as he had been at death. A thin trickle of dried blood had meandered down his cheek._

"Remember your promise to yourself."

_Miroku looked up, confused. His Kazaana still inhabited the air in front of him, but the hand, an image of his own, was black. Miroku's eyes widened as the blackness spread, forming the rest of his image._

_The image completed. Miroku gaped, frozen to the spot by awe, his stomach twisting treacherously. He was staring at an image of himself, only he had changed. He was as black as the night that rested around Miroku, poisoned by evil. His eyes were black and soulless. Bloodlust and maliciousness poured off the image in waves. He was a monster that knew nothing by death and destruction, Miroku realized in horror. And then, as if to emphasize Miroku's thoughts, the dark image of him raised his hands and, with a single touch, shattered the string of prayer beads that sealed away his Kazaana._

_"No…" Miroku whispered. His voice sounded harsh in his ears._

_The image of him smiled wickedly, turning the cursed wind tunnel toward Miroku._

"_No," Miroku said, with more strength. And then, a strange sort of power welled up with him, as though a fountain had just been brought to life. Miroku embraced the power, and pulled it toward him like a lover, recognizing the purity of the power. He couldn't understand its source, and as it grew around him, his entire world faded to white. "NO! I will never become that monster!" Miroku closed his eyes, and lost all sense of himself._

Kyoden was right in front of him now, smiling steadily. He pulled his katana free from its sheath and handed it to his brother. "Now, Miroku, regain yourself and save her."

Miroku gripped Kyoden's sword tightly in his sweating palm. "Kyoden?"

Kyoden looked up at him. "Yes?"

"I love you."

"I love you, too. Sayonara, little brother. I'll be waiting for you on the other side."

Miroku opened his eyes. The prayer beads were in his hand, crushed against the hilt of Kyoden's katana, still warm with his brother's touch. Clenching his jaw, Miroku reached up and wrapped his prayer beads around his Kazaana, finally sealing the wind tunnel.

Miroku pitched forward dangerously, his eyes swirling around inside of his head to survey the damage. Ryudaisetsu was on the other side of the room, an arrow sticking out of his forehead. Scarlet was clutching her stomach and watching Miroku dazedly. Yu was lying a few feet from Miroku, and Jou was working to free her from a beam. Ton was unconscious a few feet away. Naraku and Sango were at the top of the cracked and broken steps. Naraku's katana had left Sango's throat so he could focus on Miroku. Sango was regarding Miroku with a look of absolute fear.

A gurgle of laughter caused Miroku to look down. Ginmaru was there…or what was left of Ginmaru. Half of him was gone, and a long wooden beam protruded from his stomach. As he laughed, blood bubbled up from his throat and dribbled down his chin. "One last laugh, houshi. It was fun." Then, the light left Ginmaru's eyes and he fell limp against the ground.

Naraku was there the next instant, standing over Ginmaru and watching him with disgust. "Too bad he proved so useless in the end." He lifted his hand, and something passed from his hand into Ginmaru. When he caught Miroku's confusion, he smiled. "I gave him his heart back. Now he shall not return."

"Bastard," Miroku growled.

"And?" Naraku brought his sword up, ready to kill Miroku. Miroku moved feebly; he was already aware that he no longer had the power to stop Naraku's sword. "I shall enjoy this, oji."

"Miroku!"

"Houshi-sama!"

"DAMARE!"

Naraku froze and turned slowly, his eyes wide in his head. His jaw was slack, and there was an undeniable look of terror on his face as his eyes connected with the two shining amethyst orbs of Takara Kahori.

- Ichimu


	27. The Final Sealing

Disclaimer: I don't own any Inuyasha characters. Please don't sue.

Author's Note: At last! The final chapter! Oh man, this story was extremely trying. I hope everyone enjoyed it, and don't worry. There's a nice little epilogue coming soon to wrap things up a little bit more. Thank you so much for everyone who stuck with me through my trails and tribulations, and watch out for the epilogue and the first chapter of Project Armageddon, re-vamped and charging full-speed ahead.

Chapter 27, The Final Sealing

Takara Kahori stepped forward from the shoji, her amethyst eyes boring into Naraku's. She was beautiful, a fragile iris blooming on the edge of night and winter. Her face was as white as a geisha's, her painted lips were as red as blood. Her kimono billowed about her thin frame like fog around the mountains. It was silver, and the embroidery shimmered in the candlelight. Kahori's midnight black hair had been pulled back into a bun that was decorated by lilies. She took one step forward, and then another.

A growl arose from Naraku's chest, and his eyes flashed, but he did not move. Miroku watched his mother in wonder. How many years had it been since he had seen her? And since when had she possessed the power to stand? Something moist hit his hand and he realized that he was crying.

"Step away from him, Naraku," Kahori commanded.

Immediately, Naraku obeyed.

Kahori surveyed the damage, taking in each speck of dust. Her eyes paused a moment on the face of her husband, and then looked away again quickly. Finally, she sighed and said, "Miroku, bring the miko to me."

Miroku swallowed against his dry throat and stumbled over to Scarlet. He collected the bleeding, half-conscious girl into his arms and made his slow way over to his mother. When he had reached her, Kahori placed a hand on his shoulder and he lowered Scarlet to the ground.

Kahori looked next at Sango. "Miroku, cut her free."

As Miroku did this, Kahori slowly padded down the stairs. She kept her head high and her back straight as she walked, showing no evidence of the disease that had plagued her for so many years. She inspected each of the unmoving Chiba siblings, shaking her head sadly when she came to Yu.

Miroku knelt beside Sango and cut the cords that bound her. He helped her rub the raw skin on her wrists and ankles before pulling her to her feet. Then, Miroku led the princess away from Naraku and over toward his mother.

Naraku watched them, ferocity shining in his sapphire eyes. Still, he did not attack.

When they reached her, Kahori took Sango's face in her hands. They looked at each other intently, as if trying to measure something in each other's eyes. Then, Sango threw her arms around Kahori in a tight embrace. Miroku stood there, stunned, watching the two women hold onto each other like they were mother and daughter. When Sango broke the hug, there were tears in her eyes. Kahori brushed them away gently.

"Help me with the miko, Sango-chan," she said softly.

Takara Kahori crossed the room to Scarlet, knelt down beside her, and touched her shoulder. "How are you?" she whispered concernedly.

Scarlet coughed, and dark red blood dribbled down her pale cheek. "Breathing is a little hard—I broke a rib—but I can still string my bow. Give me a shot at that bastard. I want to get him back for what he said about Kioko-sama."

Kahori knit her brows together. "Scarlet, there was nothing you could have done for Kioko-sama. There's nothing any of us could have done."

"No," Scarlet hissed laboriously. "I'm so tired of people saying that. It _was _my fault she died. She died so I could live, just like my mother in that village… That's why, Kahori-sama…That's why—" She closed her shaking hand around her bow. "—I need to see him dead before I go."

Sango's hand flew so fast that is was no more than a blur. Miroku didn't register the slap, even, until Scarlet reached up to touch her reddened cheek in surprise. Kahori stared quietly at Sango. Sango glared at Scarlet. "Don't talk like that!" Sango screamed. "Don't talk like you're dead already. If you talk like that, what's the point in fighting? …If you talk like that, Scarlet-chan, how can you possibly go on living?"

Scarlet looked up at her friend, her face a myriad of emotions. "Sango-chan…"

Kahori stood and walked placidly through the shoji she had entered by. When she remerged, she was carrying Sango's Hiraikotsu and her wakizashi. She handed them to the girl, and stepped back. Sango accepted them and looked at Scarlet with fierce determination shining in her mahogany orbs.

"You won't die, Scarlet-chan; I won't lose anyone else."

Sango swung her Hiraikotsu over her shoulder and marched down the broken steps to stand beside Miroku. When she drew level with him, she turned and faced him. Her whole frame was strangely rigid and her gaze intense, as though she were bracing herself for an attack. "Houshi-sama…you were trying to tell me something before I was captured, back in the woods. What was it?"

Miroku stared at the girl in front of him in a mixture of awe and horror. He looked at his mother. Her amethyst gaze was steady and gentle, full of compassions and, at the same time, compelling him to tell the truth. He looked at Kyoden's katana, hanging loosely in his hand. He closed his finger around the hilt, and felt that his brother was close to him. He looked back at Sango, took a deep breath, and opened his mouth.

"Sango…do you remember the night we met?"

Sango nodded. How could she forget the night that she had lost everything…and gained Miroku…?

"I told you my name was Miroku, nothing more and nothing less. Miroku, who was 'just a traveling servant of Buddha'." Miroku sighed and ran a hand through his hair. It was such a comfortable, familiar habit that Sango almost forgot what they were talking about. "You told me that you had tried to kill yourself, I said you were being silly, that you must have everything you could possibly want. Immediately, you informed me that everything you had ever loved had been taken from you that same night.

"You told me that your fiancé had perished that night. I dropped the bandages, do you remember?"

"Yes," Sango breathed. "You said my name…"

"I told you that I had also suffered a loss that night. You grabbed my hand and whispered, 'Please…please do not say that your loss is greater than mine, or I shall not be able to contain my tears.'"

Those forgotten tears now began to well in Sango's eyes. "Houshi-sama…"

"Do you still remember what I said, Sango?"

"Houshi-sama!" Sango took one step back from him, too frightened by the impending truth to hear more. "No more, houshi-sama. I don't want to hear any more!" Sango looked up and caught Kahori's eyes. The woman's face was a mask of pain, but her gaze was steady and clear. Sango looked back at Miroku, whose face was almost a mirror of Kahori's.

"Sango, I told you I thought we were just about even." Miroku shook his head and released a disgust chuckle. "I lied to you, Sango. I lied because I was afraid, not to help you. I thought I was protecting you by keeping the truth from you, but I was only helping myself.

"When I was very young, I began putting on disguises and snuck into the villages around my home. I was terribly good at it, and quickly learned all the tricks. But as soon as the disguise was found out, everything changed; I couldn't just be me, I had to act and talk in a way that fit my status. In all my life, no matter what façade I wore, only one person treated me like I was just the same as everyone else. That person, Sango, was my brother."

Sango stifled a sob. "No, houshi-sama. Onegai shimasu! I don't want to hear this!"

Miroku hardened his expression and pressed on. "When I pretended to be a houshi, you treated me like I was just any other person interested in your welfare. Sometimes, you even treated me like I was below you. It certainly was interesting, Sango. In fact, I grew to like it. Eventually, I came to depend on it. I couldn't tell you who I was, because I didn't want to lose you."

Miroku stopped and looked at the princess before him. Sango didn't move, and she didn't say a word. She simply stood there trembling.

"Go ahead, Miroku," Kahori said gently. "Tell her."

"Yes, boi, tell her who you really are. Tell her _everything_," Naraku taunted. "Just give me a moment to get over there, I want to see the look in her eyes when you tell her." He began to move towards the two, but an icy flash of Kahori's eyes stopped him in his tracks.

"Not a word out of you, cur," she spat.

"Sango, my name is Takara Miroku. Takara Bairei, the Great Lord of the Eastern Land, is my father. I am his heir. Takara Kahori is my mother, so I am also an inheritor of the Blood Seal, which you described to me. Takara Kyoden, your fiancé who perished at Naraku's hands, was my brother."

The Hiraikotsu slid from Sango's back and hit the floor with a resounding clap. Scarlet, from her perch on top of the stairs, closed her eyes and muttered a silent prayer. Takara Kahori did not move an inch. Miroku gazed steadily into Sango's widened mahogany eyes.

A tear slid down Sango's cheek, paused momentarily on her chin, and then plummeted downwards to the floor.

Piercing metallic laughter sliced through the air, drawing every eye in the room. "Excellent!" Naraku cackled. "I couldn't have predicted a better outcome. How moving, how powerful—a truly exhilarating turn of events. Miroku, oji, you truly have done my job for me. Ha!" The demon was almost doubled over in laughter. Miroku felt his stomach drop to his feet, and found himself unable to look at Sango.

"Naraku—" Kahori began.

"Enough!" Naraku roared, rounding on Kahori. The air cracked between them cracked viciously, and Kahori fell back.

"Hahaue!" Miroku gasped, running to his mother's side. Kahori took his arm and pulled herself to a sitting position. A stream of blood had appeared on her chin, but she ignored it. She glared at Naraku, her amethyst eyes alive with silent fury.

"It is done, woman," Naraku growled, stepping towards Kahori. Her threw out his hands and laughed cruelly. "You have no control over me anymore—the Blood Seal is weakened. Every moment that passes, I grow stronger and soon, I will break the Blood Seal's hold over me by killing you and the Blood Seal's descendants."

Kahori squeezed Miroku's arm, and he looked at her. Very softly, so that her lips were hardly moving, Kahori breathed, "Go to Scarlet—find out whether or not she has the vile." Then, she stood, wiped the blood from her chin, and glared hard at Naraku. "What makes you so certain that you will ascertain so much power, hanyou?" she challenged. "You have not known your powers since infancy."

Naraku thinned his lips angrily at the bold challenge, but proceeded to explain nonetheless. "I know more of my destiny than you would care to believe, onna. I have met with youkai who would seek to manipulate me, or to oppose me, but none of them have lasted long. I know that a great evil gives authority to my whims, and sets its will against my enemies. But moreover, I have felt within my being a huge voice, an abyss that would be filled by the enormous power I am meant to have inherited, if not for that disgusting miko and you three ladies." He spat on the ground in front of Kahori. "The power is now so close I can almost taste it; I fear you no longer."

As he spoke, Miroku crossed to Scarlet. Her breathing pains had increased, but she smiled bravely as he drew near. "Miroku…" she wheezed.

Miroku reached out and took her hand. He squeezed it, imagining as he did so that he could transfer some strength and hope into Scarlet's body. "I did it, Scarlet," he whispered. "I told Sango everything."

Scarlet's smile grew, and she stretched out her hand to touch his face. "I know, princeling. I'm proud of you."

They stayed like that for a few moments, drinking in strength from the other's presence. This was a concluding point in their relationship, and both knew that it might be the last time they ever saw one another in this lifetime. "Scarlet, I need to know: Do you have the vile?"

"Yes," she answered slowly, closing her eyes. She reached into her kimono and pulled it from the layers of silken cloth. "Here it is, good as new." It was a beautiful crystalline vile filled with an emerald liquid that glittered in the light. Scarlet pressed the vile into Miroku's palm. Her icy blue eyes watched his face steadily and she said, "Miroku, Naraku must not be allowed to have this vile; this vile is the only thing that keeps him from his true power. Do not let him take it!"

"Oji, I tire of this!" Naraku hissed, suddenly appearing nearby. Miroku quickly concealed the vile inside of his robes. As he did so, his hand brushed against another object; it was the prayer bracelet that Domeki had given him. "Are you going to fight, or do you prefer to hide back here with the women?"

Miroku bristled. "That's enough, Naraku."

"Oh," Naraku said with mock sensitivity. "Have I insulted your manhood, oji?"

Miroku said nothing.

Naraku was beginning to get anxious and agitated. If Miroku kept resisting his attempts to mentally unsettle him, the fight would not be an easy one. "Fight me!" he commanded, letting his bloodlust slip from his aura.

Still, Miroku said nothing. Kyoden's sword felt like lead in his hands, unyielding and strong. It warned him against brash actions.

"Very well," Naraku seethed. "Perhaps I need to persuade you." His foot flew out and he kicked Scarlet in the side, sending her rolling across the ground. Miroku flinched, but Kyoden's sword was now a dead weight, keeping his feet firmly planted. When Naraku saw that his course of action had not rendered the desired effect, his lip curled in anger and he raised his katana to cut Scarlet open.

"Damare! Naraku!" Kahori exclaimed, running forward. The plea didn't carry much weight, but it caused just enough hesitation in the hanyou to create the necessary opening for Sango to dive into action.

Naraku's katana struck the surface of Hiraikotsu, causing the blade to hum viciously. An instant later, before Naraku had quite comprehended the situation, Sango emerged from behind the giant boomerang, her wakizashi glinting. Naraku blocked quickly, catching the wakizashi just inches from his chest, and pushed against the thin steel so hard that Sango almost lost her footing as she backed away.

"You little bitch," Naraku growled as he blocked another attack. "Are you so indignant as to fight me with killing intent?"

"I will fight you until you lie dead at my feet, monster," Sango replied angrily as she pounced again. "I will never give up." Tears sparkled in her brown eyes as she fought.

"So, you have convinced yourself that it is within your capacity to destroy me?" Naraku said calmly, his cool countenance unaltered by her threats.

"I am certain that I can and I will, no matter what it means. I will kill you, Naraku." Sango promised, barely dodging a clever counterattack.

"And what do you know of killing, Sango hime?" Naraku taunted. He dodged as Sango brought Hiraikotsu around her body to take out his knees. "How many men have you killed in your time?"

Sango did not answer, but the question had an immediate effect on her performance. Her movement had suddenly become much more wild—the confidence was receding from her face.

"How many youkai have fallen t your feet, begging for their lives?"

Sango made an uncalculated swing of her boomerang that threw her off balance. She stumbled, tripped, and hit the ground hard. Her wakizashi slipped from her hand and rolled across the ground. Naraku's foot shot out and came down upon the blade of her wakizashi so forcibly that the steel was split. The hanyou laughed and began to circle Sango, his katana springing forward like a cobra at random intervals, opening shallow cuts along her arms and legs. His lips were cocked in a crooked smile that dared Sango to rise to her feet once more. "How many times have you hidden yourself away, Sango hime, relying on the men in your life to save you from the terrible shadows that descend upon you. First, you sacrificed your father and brother's lives so that you might live. Then, you stood by as Kyoden oji gave himself for your safety. Cruel, ice-hearted woman!"

From where she lay on the ground, her face partially obscured by her silken hair, Sango released a stifled sob.

"Now I ask you, hime, _what do you know of killing_?"

Sango trembled as he mind reeled. Everything from that fateful night onward was spinning around inside her skull, the images crashing into one another to form explosive bolts of light behind her eyelids. Her meeting with Miroku, his vow to help her avenge her family, spreading her father's ashes to the wind, the sight of Kyoden's dead body, Tomomi and Domeki, the dragon and the river, Scarlet and the Chiba siblings, the truth of Scarlet's past, her capture, and the truth of Miroku's past; all of the events and emotions she had kept bottled up inside of her had reached breaking point. She opened her eyes, grabbed Hiraikotsu, and screamed as her world came crashing in around her in an explosion of color and sound.

Miroku, still rooted to the spot, watched in awe as Sango began an exact and effective counterattack. She was pressing Naraku back, dodging every attack she could and ignoring the injuries merited by those attack she could not. Tears and sweat poured down her face, mingling with the strands of hair and pools of blood that had collected there. She was a terrifying sight, and Miroku found his mind soaring back to his last discussion with Domeki, where the old man had solemnly pleaded, "Don't let her be consumed by her want for revenge, Miroku-san." Miroku hadn't known it then, but now he was certain that his was exactly what the old monk had been warning him about.

He had already seen this side of his own personality, the night when he had gone off to meditate—the terrible, black enigma that had attacked him was now present in Sango. That presence that had entered into through the Kazaana was now eating away at the princess. Kyoden had helped Miroku conquer this part of him, but now his brother's earthly influence was almost spent and it was up to Miroku to save Sango. Miroku reached into his robes, extracted the prayer bracelet, and slowly began to approach Sango.

-…-…-…-…-…-

As Miroku crept towards Sango, Takara Kahori pulled herself over to where Scarlet lay unmoving. Very gently, she rolled Scarlet onto her back and placed her head full of dark crimson-tinted hair into her lap. "Scarlet," she beckoned softly.

The miko's icy eyes fluttered open. "Kahori-san… I feel my life closing in around me."

Kahori coaxed some stray hairs away from Scarlet's face. "She," she soothed. "Sango's right—don't talk like that. Besides, I need you to live."

"Why's that?"

"I need you to seal Naraku, you know how to do so, don't you?"

Scarlet laughed roughly, bringing up more blood to dribble down her chin. "Kahori-san, Kioko-sama's sole purpose in training me was to carry on her work—I not only know how to perform a flawless seal, but I also know how to care for it and how to uphold it."

"Good," said Kahori with a tender smile. "Will it require another Blood Seal?"

Scarlet considered this for a moment. "I don't believe so," she said slowly. "If I can get Miroku's and Sango's blood on the vile, and if a union if formed between their bloodlines on some following date, all that should be otherwise required in a constant caretaker." She looked at Kahori. "Would you be willing to do this, Kahori-san?"

Kahori shook her head sadly. "No, Scarlet. I am old and I have been sick for a long time. When this is done, I intend to enter the after life and join my sisters, Kinuko and Mayuko."

Scarlet's eyes flashed to the battlefield. Sango's condition was heightening—she was growing concerned. If Sango's situation continued to escalate so rapidly, it would not be long before Sango was consumed by it. "Then, you mean for me to be the caretaker."

"Would you do it, Scarlet?"

Scarlet closed her eyes and let her mind stray from the battlefield to address the matter at hand. If she declined, her injuries would kill her within the hour. If she accepted, her injuries would be cured by the purifying qualities of the sealing, and her life would be extended to well beyond the stretches of her mortal mind. If she accepted, she would spend the rest of her life defending the vile until someone with enough talent emerged to become her apprentice. As soon as the apprentice was fully trained, Scarlet would finally be able to pass from the earth. Scarlet tried to imagine what it would be like living for what could turn into centuries, and then smiled at the though of watching and guarding Miroku's and Sango's descendants. "Yes, Kahori-san," she said finally, "I would be happy to."

-…-…-…-…-…-

Back on the battlefield, the blades were flying. Sango knew nothing more than action-reaction, all else was fading from her mind like a flickering candle as seen through rice-paper doors. Names and faces danced before her eyes, but she pushed them away. One face and name appeared again and again. It was a handsome face with amethyst eyes, but it hurt her to look upon it so she shied from it. Darkness fluttered around the edges of her vision, threatening to consume her, and she welcomed it. Darkness no longer held any fear for her—instead, she lusted after its peace and emptiness.

Empty. That's what she wanted; she wanted to be utterly and completely empty. Feeling was too painful and she couldn't take it anymore. She tried to hollow herself out, to free herself, but each time those amethyst eyes emerged and stopped her. She knew of only one way to free herself: to destroy the creature before her. She sensed innately that it was because of him that feeling had become an ordeal, and that only his death could satisfy her.

Something sharp struck her forehead and blood poured into her eyes. It took a moment for her to realize that the creature's sword had pierce her brow. The wound hurt, and the pain renewed her attacks on the monster. She swung at his middle with her giant weapon, but he dodged, landing on top of the weighty object and running up it towards her, sword raised. Sango didn't move, she only watched and waited for the final, truest emptiness to break upon her live a wave.

It never did, because the next moment, Sango was far from the monster, wrapped in a strong, fragrant embrace. She took a deep breath of the rich scent, and watched numbly as a green bracelet was slipped onto her wrist. The beads were cold. She blinked back tears and looked up into two wide, hopeful amethyst eyes. "Miroku…" she breathed.

Miroku smiled and then leaned in and caught her lips in a gentle but firm kiss that sent shivers racing up and down her spine.

Naraku shrieked and raced towards them, his blade flashing wildly. Miroku pushed Sango back, bracing himself for the on-coming attack, but the girl grabbed his arm and came level with him. "Together, Miroku."

Miroku grinned at her. She winked. They dove into action.

-…-…-…-…-…-

At the top of the stairs, Scarlet summoned her power into her hands. The glow burned brightly, pulsing around her and tingling as the purity closed her wounds. She opened her eyes and focused on Naraku. "Miroku!" she called.

The three figures below looked up at Scarlet, faces blank as awe overcame them. Miroku reached into his robes and produced the vile. Naraku saw and went pale.

"No…" he gasped. He didn't move.

"Hurry, Miroku. It needs both yours and Sango's blood on it," Scarlet instructed. The power was surging through her now, arching off her body in violent waves that lashed out and hissed. She cast a glance around for the Chiba siblings. Yu was dead, she knew. Jou was crouched over her lifeless body, his blind eyes watching Scarlet. Ton stood beside him, clutching his sister's hand. They were glowing dimly in the light—the intensity of Scarlet's power would soon purify their demon halves if they didn't distance themselves from her.

Miroku did as he was told, and pressed the vile into Sango's hands. A moment later, the vile was prepared. Scarlet gasped as she released a bolt of her power. It danced around the room, whizzed through Naraku as the hanyou screeched, and then carried him with it into the vile.

Scarlet crumbled to her feet, drained, but happy. Sango looked at the vile in her hands, and then immediately turned to Miroku to rip away the prayer beads.

"Sango!" Miroku exclaimed instinctively.

Sango squealed happily and lifted his bare palm for him to see. "It's gone, Miroku! It's really gone. You're free!" Happy tears were streaming from her eyes. "We did it, you're finally free."

Miroku smiled and embraced her, "I love you, Sango," he said huskily.

Sango laughed as she said, "And I love you, Miroku." Miroku brushed her tears away and then enfolded her lips in a hard kiss.

The End

- Ichimu


	28. Epilogue

Disclaimer: I do not own Inuyasha in any way. Please do not sue.

Author's Note: Ohmigosh! People still read my story!

Thank you everyone for your kind and very supportive reviews throughout the course of this story; I would not have made it without you. And that's the solemn truth. If I was ever down our doubted myself, I had your friendly support to fall back on, and that's the most important thing to have as a writer.

This story is almost two years old, and I have no words to describe my appreciation of those who have stuck with me through the years. All I can say is that I thank you all from the bottom of my little heart, and I hope that you enjoyed at least a large portion of Blood Upon Snow. Each of you is so special to me, and I want each of you to know that you had a very strong hand in the creation of this story, and I would like to think that some of your hopes and aspirations for this story did come to play.

And I still can't believe the success of this story. I hope you will all join my for the wild and exciting ride that will be Project Armageddon, the fastest-paced of all my stories that I've ever written. For now, please enjoy this little epilogue, and have a great life!

Epilogue

Somewhere in Japan, 1997

It was spring. A warm breeze was blowing through the city, carrying sakura blossoms in its wake. The sun was shining, warm and gentle, its rays passing through the branches of the trees to dance with the shadows along the path. Two children raced along through the playful half-light.

"Keep up, Kahori," the boy shouted to his little sister. "You're going to make us late."

"I'm trying, Jou, but it would be easier if you hadn't made me scratch me knee earlier!" Kahori protested, pausing to rub her afflicted limb.

"I wouldn't have pushed you if you hadn't deserved it," Jou replied defensively. They were approaching the shrine now, and he didn't want the miko to him bickering with his sister; she would never approve of such behavior.

"What do you think she'll teach us today?" Kahori asked as she caught up with Jou. "I hope she talks about the villages again."

"Bah," Jou said, sticking out his tongue. "I want her to tell us about the youkai. Especially the forest youkai that liked to eat seven-year-old girls," Jou said.

Kahori froze in her tracks, her amethyst eyes wide in her face. "Nah-uh, she never told us about that one," she said doubtfully.

"Sure did!" Jou argued. "That was the one that caught them while they were walking in the forest. Its favorites were the little girls with brown hair and amethyst eyes!"

"Jou," snapped a voice from behind them, causing Jou to jump into the air and scream.

"Scarlet-sama!" chimed Kahori happily, running over to the miko and throwing her arms around her neck.

"Hello, anata," Scarlet said laughingly. Jou approached and after apologizing to his sister, was given a hug as well. "Let's head back to the shrine then, shall we?" The children agreed happily.

At the shrine, Kahori and Jou rushed over to greet their sister, Kinuko, who was training to become a miko herself. Scarlet hung back from the joyous meeting, smiling as she watched the three young ones enjoy each other's company.

For centuries, she had been watching over the descendants of her two best friends, patiently awaiting the arrival of one who could take her place as caretaker of the shrine—which housed the vile. She had found everything she could possibly have hoped for in Takara Kinuko; in ancient times, the girl would have been a fine warrior miko. Now, Kinuko's training was drawing to a close and Scarlet was anticipating a reunion with her companions in the afterlife. Arisa was coming almost every night now, keeping her busy with questions about how Kinuko's training was coming along. They both knew that this was not a time to be lingering, but one story remained to be told.

"Scarlet-sama!" Jou called, rousing Scarlet from her thoughts. "Scarlet-sama, will you tell us about our ancestors?" Jou, like his namesake, was a very forward boy; Scarlet was accustomed to telling that story only when the members of the Takara family reached their twelfth year.

Kinuko smiled at Scarlet, as though sensing the miko's hesitation. "It's alright, Scarlet-sama, you don't have to tell us. But I would like to hear it again." Kinuko looked exactly like Miroku, a privilege that prevented Scarlet from denying her anything. Jou and Kahori perked up, knowing that Scarlet couldn't possibly refuse now that their sixteen-year-old sister was involved.

"Ok," Scarlet said, laughing. "Alright." She lowered herself onto one of the many benches that lined the path and beckoned to the siblings. They gathered around, eager listeners to a tale saved only for very special occasions.

(-)

Scarlet opened her eyes and sat up. Arisa was in the doorway, surveying the miko with her customary superior air. "How old are you now, cub?" she asked.

Although many years had passed since she had accepted her role as caretaker, Scarlet's appearance had not felt an hour's deterioration since Naraku had been sealed. "Several hundred years…quite frankly, Arisa-sama, I've lost count."

Arisa laughed. "Still so young, but now you're starting to sound like one of my own."

A pregnant second ticked by on Scarlet's bedside clock.

"Is it time, Arisa-sama?" Scarlet asked. She had described the details of the situation to Kinuko several days ago, and the girl had accepted them quite dutifully and with a dignified grace that reminded Scarlet so keenly of the girl's ancestors.

"It is. Are you ready, cub?"

Scarlet felt tears itching at the corners of her eyes, but she was not sad. She felt a kind of peace swelling over her, a peace and an intense happiness. "Oh, I am."

Arisa's blue eyes crinkled at the edges, forming a wolfish smile. "Then cub, it's time to extract your blessing." She paused and then approached Scarlet. She very delicately laid her ancient head across Scarlet's knee.

"Are you coming, too?" Scarlet asked.

"I don't see why not—this world is too dangerous for my kind nowadays. Besides," and here her smile intensified, "how can I possibly expect a little one like you to be able to look out for yourself?"

Scarlet smiled in return. "Well, arigato, Arisa-sama."

Arisa closed her eyes tightly, and when she opened them and turned them to Scarlet's face, they were full of warmth and compassion. "Let's go."

Scarlet touched the phoenix on her chest, and sighed happily as a blue fire consumed her and the kitsune.

(-)

Because she was not at breakfast, Kinuko went to check on Scarlet the next morning. As she slid open the door, a beautiful blue bird swooped through the opening and out the window. Kinuko gazed in wonderment after it, her amethyst eyes following it as it ascended to the heavens. Then, slowly, a smile dawned on her features and she whispered, "Sayonara, Scarlet-sama. Say hello to your friends for me, and I'll see you soon."

- Ichimu


End file.
